A New Life for All
by aberk19
Summary: Three years after the end of the Second War, Hermione is on a mission for the Aurors when she comes across a family she never thought she would see again. Draco Malfoy didn't want to be found, or helped, by anyone; especially not the Golden Trio. But, things happen that no one can explain, people do things that they may regret, and choices are made that they cannot turn back from.
1. Chapter 1

The group walked through the Ministry of Magic, the magical headquarters in Whitewall, London with their heads held high under the eyes of their coworkers. Many were used to the sight of the large group of war-heroes, but there were those who still considered the young adults something akin to celebrities.

People parted as they passed, voicing their greetings as appropriate. The group of youngsters were not as accustomed with their associates as they would have liked after a year of training. Unable to properly greet some, they would simply nod their heads and smile.

"My cheeks are beginning to hurt," Hermione Granger muttered through a bright smile to the receptionist in the foyer to the Auror Office, Level 2 of the Ministry of Magic.

"You can stop smiling now," Ginevra Weasley mused when the group rounded the corner. Hermione sighed in relief and rubbed her jaw delicately.

"This is why you should be more sparing with your smiles, 'Mione; it'll save you some pain." Ginny rolled her eyes at Harry Potters' inane comment.

Hermione snorted indelicately. "Harry, that makes positively no sense. I cannot simply _not_ smile when I am being greeted."

"Hermione, you don't even _know_ most of these people," Ron Weasley pointed out.

"Courtesy is a requirement in any setting Ronald," Hermione reminded him, in a tone similar to that of Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "And besides, I may not _know_ them personally, but we still work with them."

"Sure, if you really want to get that technical about it," Ron said, shaking his head with a smile.

Hermione didn't return with a sharp retort, choosing to ignore Ronald. As she neared her cubicle, Hermione gave a wave and a promise to meet them for lunch at 1 pm in the foyer. Her oldest group of friends gave their _adieu_s and departed, moving to their own respective work areas.

"Busy day today, Granger," Proudfoot said, leaning against her cubicle wall. Hermione suppressed a groan and reached for the papers in his hand. Glancing over them, she saw that they were more reports on former Death Eater sightings.

"I thought you said _busy_ day, not _boring_," Hermione said quietly. Proudfoot chuckled and clapped her on the back.

"You will do great things here, Granger," he replied cryptically. Hermione watched the older Auror walk away, a smile on his face, his graceful gait that of one who had escaped the Wars without much injury. Hermione envied the man.

"How's your day going so far?" Ginny asked after swallowing a bite of her Caesar salad. Hermione groaned and put her sandwich down.

"Horrid. Proudfoot gave me another file full of sightings." She took a sip of her water, thinking back on her dreary morning.

"Did you find anything useful?" Hermione looked at Neville Longbottom with a frown.

"When do we ever find anything useful in those damn reports?" The group nodded in sympathy. Said reports were more often than not useless leads, given in by witches and wizards who had merely glimpsed the Death Eaters in passing, if at all.

"At least you had something somewhat challenging to do. I had to look over forms filled out by the new recruits," Ron complained.

"That's what you get for asking for simple work in the Office," Harry reminded his best friend. Ron grimaced in acknowledgement. "Just think of it this way Ron… you could be cleaning bathrooms and cubicles again."

They all groaned as they recalled their jobs at the beginning of their internship with the Aurors Office. It was standard policy for interns to clean up around the Office, along with their other duties.

"I still don't understand why that was ever necessary," Ginny muttered.

"I believe it was a sort of initiation for us," Hermione stated, finishing off her ham and cheese sandwich. "They wanted to humble us. We all needed it." There was a chorus of 'I guess' and 'whatever' as her friends thought over her words.

Checking her watch, Ginny rose from the black chair she had been lounging in. Packing the rest of her salad away, she turned to the group and informed them that she had to make a quick errand before their lunch hour ended. Waving goodbye, the young witch scurried off towards the elevator that would bring her down to the main floor.

Hermione and Neville were the next to rise. Neville announced that he wanted to get back to his work so that he could finish in time for dinner. Hermione followed, claiming a similar excuse. In reality, she just wanted to get the work over with. That, and she was not too keen on sitting alone with Ronald, as Harry would surely leave the table with his girlfriend no longer present.

Sitting in her black swivel computer chair, Hermione pulled the next report out of the folder and glanced at the name. She looked again, just to make sure she had read it correctly. _Malfoy family spotted in Kharkiv, Ukraine_. She pursed her lips and quickly read the short article printed before her.

_Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco Malfoy: spotted_

_ Location: Kharkiv, Ukraine_

_ Date: 15 July, 2000_

_ Appearance: N/A_

_ Danger Level: 2_

From this, Granger derived that the Malfoy family was indeed trying to stay hidden. After the Second Wizarding War, the family had quickly dispersed following their hearing at the Ministry, and had not been heard from since. None of them were given any time in Azkaban, which Hermione secretly found annoying.

"They may have changed sides, but it wasn't 'til _after_ it was almost certain we would win," Hermione muttered to herself. She, along with many others in the wizarding community, did not forgive the Malfoy's as easily as the Wizengamot had seemed to do. She couldn't forget the damage the family had caused.

The fact that the family had supposedly been seen only a few weeks ago didn't change Hermione's assumption that the report was wrong. After all, why would the Malfoy clan suddenly pop up after two years of staying well hidden? She had no inclination to believe that the revered Lucius Malfoy would allow his family to be found so quickly. He was too smart a man for that.

Hours later, Hermione headed to the foyer, seeing Ginny, Harry, and Ron already seated on the beige leather couches, waiting for her. The trio rose as she approached, preparing to take the elevator downstairs. She reached them just as the metal grate slid open, allowing them access to the magical contraption. They had all given up holding onto the handles above their heads months ago, choosing instead to try and adapt to the sudden and jerky movements.

"I'm exhausted," Ginny said as the doors opened once more, and the friends walked out onto the black marble floor of the main level. "If I had had to read _one more_ article on underage wizardry, I was going to scream."

Hermione patted her shoulder understandingly. She had similar thoughts pertaining to her own tedious work. Out of the 107 reports she had read that day, only four were deemed important enough to pass on to her superiors. The other 103 went to a team that specialized in tracing spells. Her heart went out to the party of witches and wizards responsible for carefully following every lead on every report passed on to them.

"Did you find anything good, Hermione?" Ron asked as he slipped out of the elevator behind them.

"I gave four out of practically a thousand reports to Proudfoot," she grumbled. Ron winced.

"That's rough. Who were the four?" Hermione sighed and rubbed her face, trying to remember the details of those particular four reports.

"Umm, the first one was on Antonin Dolohov. It said he was spotted by a group of tourists in Berlin, Germany, and when an Auror went to check it out, there were traces of Dark magic nearby.

"Then there was a report on Igor Karkaroff, the old Headmaster from Durmstrang. You remember him, from the Tri Wizard Tournament? Well, I was told to pass on all reports about him, since he had such close approximation with students. The report itself was nothing really, just like a routine checkup. It basically stated that he was vacationing in the Cayman Islands, and therefore should be checked once he returns.

"I was surprised at this report, actually. It seems that some of Bellatrix Lestrange's old possessions have shown up. The Ministry wanted me to flag that one only because of who she was. They aren't sure if the items are from before or after Bellatrix… changed." Hermione repressed a small shudder thinking about the crazy, evil witch who had loved Lord Voldemort so.

"What about the fourth one?" Harry asked, seeing his friend hesitate.

"It was, well, about the… Malfoy's," Hermione admitted. Harry frowned.

"Why is the Ministry tracking _them_? I thought after the trial that the Malfoy's were exonerated, or at least not under suspicion."

They all knew how Harry Potter felt about the Malfoy's. He may have had a long running enemy in Draco Malfoy, but during the Second Wizarding War, Draco and his parents tried to prove themselves the only way they could; by not participating.

"Just because they were excused does _not_ mean that they're good people," Hermione said sharply. Her friends looked at her, surprised at her outburst. Hermione ignored them. She knew that her feelings on the Pureblood family were different from most around her, but she felt that they were vindicated. No one chose to comment, preferring to let Hermione think whatever she wanted about their schoolmate's family. They walked out onto the streets of London, choosing this clear night to walk home instead of taking the Floo Network.

"So I assume Proudfoot was _very_ interested in the Dolohov file," Ginny said, tactfully changing the subject. Harry squeezed her shoulder on the sly in thanks.

"Yes, he was quite happy with that report. The Aurors had thought Dolohov was hiding somewhere in Western America, therefore putting him in the American Aurors jurisdiction."

"I thought we worked with the AAA?" Ginny said, furrowing her brows.

"We do," Harry clarified. "We just have to inform them first before we do anything drastic, like hunt down a Death Eater. Sometimes that can take a while, and then the trail is cold."

"Exactly. Which is why I'm surprised he returned to Europe, where we can catch him at any time," Ron said with what looked like the beginnings of a smile. It was no secret that Ronald Weasley hated Death Eaters with a burning passion.

"Well, all this talk of evil has made me tired," Ginny said, stifling a yawn. Hermione smirked at the younger witch.

"Having a hard time keeping up with the big kids, Gin?" she teased. Ginny stuck her tongue out and laughed.

"If that's what'll help you sleep at night, Granger, then sure," the redhead tossed back. "Night all." The four waved their goodbyes and parted ways, Ginny and Harry continued onto Upper Thames Street, heading for their flat on Kennet Street.

As Hermione watched the couple make their way home, arms around each other, she sighed. If only things had worked out between her and Ron…

"You ok?" Hermione looked at her companion and forced a smile.

"I'm fine, thank you. Just tired, is all." Ron nodded once and waited for her to start walking again. "I haven't talked to your mother in a while, how is she?" It may have been a diversion, intended to distract them from an awkward walk, but Hermione truly wanted to know how Molly Weasley was faring.

"She and Dad are still as busy as ever, trying to make sure we all have everything we need to have a happy living." Hermione nodded, recalling the way her friends' parents acted towards their children. "Since Fred… after Fred died, Mom's been bent on keeping herself integrated in all our lives. She still calls every few days, checking up on me, and I know she does the same with Ginny."

"It's got to be hard on her," Hermione murmured, her heart going out to the woman she thought of as her second mother. They were all devastated when Fred died, and it was clear that this was his mother's way of coping with her son's death.

"How… how're you doing, Ron?" He didn't respond at first, his head straight ahead as they walked.

"I'm doing alright, considering," he said at last. Hermione understood his unsure words. "Of course, I miss the silly git, but I know that I can't hold on to him forever."

Hermione was a little surprised at the maturity her redheaded friend was showing at this point in his young life. Knowing Ronald as well as she did, the witch had not expected him to let go so calmly, without more than a few fits of rage or overwhelming sadness.

"I'm happy for you Ronald," she admitted, looking over and up at him. He smiled down at her.

They arrived at Hermione's flat on Brick Lane, Ron waiting patiently while Hermione pulled out her key and unlocked the front door. At first, being on the first floor had concerned her, but now she was glad that there were no stairs for her to trudge up, unlike Harry and Ginny, who resided on the third floor.

"Night, Ron." Hermione turned to walk into her apartment, stopping when Ron put a hand on her arm. He pulled her into a tight embrace, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"G'night, Mione," Ron said into her hair. Pulling back, he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead before retreating out of her building and Apparating to the Burrow. Hermione quickly ducked into her kitchen, locking the door behind her. Immediately going to her black leather sofa, she flopped down and rubbed her temple.

After the War ended, Ronald and Hermione had dated. But when his depression lasted more than a few months, Ron broke it off, saying he needed space and to spend more time with his family. Hermione was understanding and compassionate, cooperating with his request. But in the year and a half apart, she had found that she enjoyed being single. It kept her focused on her work, something she was very adamant about furthering.

Lately, Ron had shown that he was interested in rekindling their romance. Hogwarts Hermione would have jumped at the chance to get back together with her first love, but this was War Hero Hermione. She was a changed woman, and she didn't know where Ronald fit into her personal life.

"What am I going to do, Crooks?" she asked the orange cat as he sidled up to her dangling arm. Absently stroking his fur, Hermione closed her eyes and tried not to think about Ronald or his kiss.


	2. AN

**Sorry, I didn't have enough room in my summary to mention that this story is not really compliant with all the deaths from the books or movies. If you have any questions about character appearances, just message me.**

**Thanks!**

**Alex**

**P.S. I don't own any of this except the idea, J.K. Rowling does.**


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: So, I know that this isn't my first story on here, but it is the only one that I actually can look back on and not cringe while reading (I'm sure a lot of you know what I'm talking about). Read and Review! **

**~Alex**

"So what did my brother do?" Hermione stiffened at the question.

"I don't know what you mean," the witch said, not looking at her younger friend. Ginny snorted.

"Right. I'm not blind Hermione, I can see that you've been trying to avoid Ron all day. So I'll ask again. What did my imbecile of a brother do?"

Hermione looked around, and seeing that the two were alone in the hallway, pulled Ginny close. "When he dropped me off at my flat last night, he kissed me." Ginny's eyes widened. "It was only on the forehead though," Hermione clarified quickly.

"Why in the world would he think that's a good idea?" Ginny shook her head in disappointment. "Has he even _asked_ you if you want to start dating again?"

"Ron has made comments about the two of us getting back together, but I haven't done anything to encourage him. I swear." Sighing, she realized immediately that that wasn't entirely true.

"Hermione, you're too nice," Ginny said, catching onto the same line of thought that Hermione had. "Ron sees that as an opening. If you don't do something soon, he'll get the notion into his head that your lack of response means 'yes'."

"I know, I know. I just don't know what I should do…" Ginny cocked her head and looked closely at Hermione.

"Mione, do you _want_ to go back out with my brother?" Shrugging, Hermione looked apologetic.

"I don't _think_ so… I mean, I've become so used to being single that I'm comfortable with it. I have a routine and everything. I fear that bringing Ron into it will change too many things that I've come to love."

"Like what," Ginny prompted as they stood in line for the salad bar in the cafeteria.

"Well… I like the quiet that surrounds me when I come home. If someone else were there, I wouldn't have that peace and quiet all the time. I like the independence, the freedom of being able to make my own decisions about my private life without having to worry about someone else." The women paid for their food and chose a table on the edge of the crowded cafeteria. Any Muggle would think it a typical high school cafeteria, bench tables and all.

"Seems like you've got it all figured out," Ginny pointed out, her plastic fork directed at Hermione.

"But if I had it figured out, I wouldn't feel so conflicted," Hermione replied with a sigh. "You're so lucky that you and Harry are so strong together." Ginny smiled dreamily.

"Yes, well, Harry and I definitely had our rough patches. But now… now we're just _so happy_ together. We have our jobs, which we love, a beautiful flat nearby, and the opportunity to wake up every morning and know that we won't be running for our lives.

"During the War, our relationship was strained, just like you and Ron, and I didn't think we would make it after everything was said and done. But Harry and I… there's just something so wonderful about being with that one person who feels like your other half, your best friend."

Hermione grinned at her best girlfriend. "So how long do you think it'll be until he pops the question?" she asked casually. Ginny blushed and looked at the glass of lemonade she held.

"I know we love each other, there's no doubt about that. But I feel like neither of us is ready to take that step. Or at least, _I'm_ not. I know I want Harry in my life forever, but I think I'm too young to make such an important life decision."

"But if he _did_ ask you…" Hermione prompted.

"I would say yes, of course." The brown haired witch sighed in relief. For a moment there, she had a dreadful feeling that Ginny would be uncertain in her reply.

"Good. I'm happy for you," she said, smiling. Ginny opened her mouth to say something, but hesitated when someone approached their table.

"Good afternoon Miss Granger, Miss Weasley," Proudfoot greeted, smiling brightly at the seated women. They both nodded in welcome. "Miss Granger, I apologize for disturbing your lunch hour, but I wanted to let you know personally that you have a new assignment." He smiled broadly, clearly happy with his news.

Hermione smiled in return. "What is the assignment, Sir?" Proudfoot handed her a file.

Opening the flap, Hermione's eyes were immediately drawn to the name on the top of the first sheet: Malfoy. Surprised, she looked at her boss, who simply nodded at her to read on. There was a note below the family information.

_Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco Malfoy were recently spotted in Kharkiv, Ukraine. Over the last two years, the family has been in careful hiding. It is our responsibility to find and protect the family from former Death Eaters, as well as other unknown threats. _

_ There is a safe house in Las Vegas, Nevada that I would like the Malfoy family to be taken to. The Ministry will provide for them until further notice. The chosen Auror will stay with the family until further notice._

_ Signed, _

_ Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic_

Hermione gaped at the paper signed by the Minister himself. Looking once more at Proudfoot, she asked him who was taking this assignment, needing to hear confirmation.

"You, Miss Granger," he said, giving her a strange look.

"And where, Sir, is Las Vegas?" She had never heard of the strange town.

"In the United States of America."

"Mione, what's with the long face?" Harry asked. She just looked at him, still clutching the dreaded file in her hand. After Proudfoot had delivered the not-so-good news, Hermione had been led back to her cubicle by Ginny. The redhead had promptly gone to find her boyfriend in the hopes that he could cheer up her friend.

Hermione reluctantly handed him the manila folder. Harry took it and quickly read it over, his brows rising at the note left by Kingsley. Looking sideways at Ginny, he saw that she looked just as wary to broach the subject as he.

"Hermione, it really isn't _that_ bad…" he began. Hermione's head snapped up to look him in the eye, her mocha ones piercing his own green eyes.

"Harry James Potter, I don't think you even _realize_ how much I want to burn that file and ignore the request completely." Harry and Ginny looked at each other, concerned. If Hermione was contemplating disregarding a direct order from the Minister of Magic, then she _really_ didn't want to do this mission.

"I'm sure they have a perfectly good reason for choosing you to guard the Malfoy's," Ginny said slowly. She tried to sound confident in her statement, but in her mind, she wasn't all that sure the Ministry _did_ have a good incentive for putting Hermione Granger on the Malfoy case.

"But do they have to send me to _America_ of all places? I mean, couldn't Shacklebolt find anywhere a bit closer to home?"

"I could have, but under the circumstances, I thought it best to get the Malfoy's out of Europe entirely." The three turned at the deep voice behind them. Kinglsey Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, stood a few feet away, flanked by Proudfoot and John Dawlish. Hermione blushed, mortified that she had been caught 'bad-mouthing' a case the Minister had ordered.

"I'm sorry Sir, I meant no disrespect." Kingsley nodded in deference to her words.

"I know, Miss Granger. I also know that you have no desire to assist the Malfoy's. But, unfortunately, there is a situation that requires all elder Aurors to stay close, a situation that the Malfoy family would be best to stay far away from. And I felt that between you and Mr. Potter, you would be able to handle the case more efficiently, and with less… eccentricity." Harry blushed as Kinglsey looked pointedly at him. Everyone knew that whenever Harry was involved with something big, things tended to get a little more public than they would otherwise, due to his knack for pulling tactics out of thin air.

"I understand, Sir," Hermione said, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

"Excellent. I expect you to be ready within the week." With that, the men left the three young Aurors to their thoughts.

"Well, at least it's Wednesday," Ginny said, trying to lighten the suddenly sullen mood.

"I'll leave tomorrow. The faster I get those prejudiced gits to America, the faster I can come back here," Hermione said firmly. This was the first assignment she had been given that she wished had never been passed into her hands. Turning back to her desk, she opened up the file, determined to have it memorized before she left for the night. If she was going to be dealing once more with the Pureblood family, she might as well know everything about them. Harry and Ginny left her to her task, silently wishing her luck with the unfortunate duty.

After her friends left, Hermione sighed and leaned back in her chair. _What am I going to do?_ she thought, running her hand through her long brown hair. After the War, Ron had told her he liked her hair long, so she'd grown it out. When they split up, she'd kept it long, deciding she liked it better that way. It was easier to manage; less frizz and bushiness. Now, it was practically down to her waist.

_I can't defy a direct order… but I _really_ don't want to help them. I _despise_ them, Lucius and Draco especially._ She knew that Narcissa hadn't done anything to her, but she felt that the woman was no less at fault than her Death Eater husband and son. Looking back down at the paper on her desk, she brushed up her knowledge on the older, aristocratic woman.

_Narcissa Black-Malfoy_

_Youngest Pureblood daughter of Cygnus Black III and Druella Rosier-Black_

_Sister to Andromeda Black-Tonks and Bellatrix Black-Lestrange, known Death Eater_

_1973 graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Pureblood marriage to Lucius Malfoy, 1972 graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, known Death Eather_

_Mother to Draco Malfoy, 1998 graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, known Death Eater_

_Involvement in the First Wizarding War_

_Involvement in the Second Wizarding War_

_Defected at the end of the Second Wizarding War_

_Pardoned from crimes ensuing a trial with the Wizengamot_

Hermione snorted. She may have been found Not Guilty, but that doesn't mean she _wasn't_ guilty. The woman had supported her husband through both the First and Second Wizarding Wars. But, there were statements made from people who were at the Battle of Hogwarts, stating that Narcissa Malfoy had indeed lied to the Dark Lord about one Harry Potter's death, and that she did not assist any Death Eaters during the Battle.

The report almost looked like it was trying to make Narcissa Malfoy out to be a good person. Hermione knew that she had no plausible proof that the woman wasn't actually a good person who had made a few — a lot— of mistakes over the years. _Doesn't matter_, Hermione thought stubbornly. Moving on, she read the file on the one and only Lucius Malfoy, head of the Malfoy household.

_Lucius Malfoy_

_Pureblood son of Abraxas Malfoy_

_Known Death Eater_

_1972 graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Pureblood marriage to Narcissa Black, 1973 graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Father to Draco Malfoy, 1998 graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, known Death Eater_

_Involvement in the First Wizarding War_

_Imprisoned in Azkaban in 1996_

_Released from prison in 1997 by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_

_Involvement in the Second Wizarding War_

_Defected at the end of the Second Wizarding War_

_Pardoned from crimes ensuing a trial with the Wizengamot_

He may have been pardoned, but Hermione knew that he had done plenty that the Wizengamot could have used to put him away for years, if not for life. She didn't think he should have gotten off scotch-free simply because he switched sides at the end of the War. She ignored the fact that it had been to save his family, an essentially noble thing. Scowling, she read the last file.

_Draco Malfoy_

_Son of Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black-Malfoy_

_Known Death Eater_

_1998 graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Involvement in the Second Wizarding War_

_Defected at the end of the Second Wizarding War_

_Pardoned from crimes ensuing a trial with the Wizengamot_

_They should have added 'known git'_, Hermione thought wryly. It was no secret that Gryffindor's Princess and Slytherin's Prince hadn't gotten along during their years at school together. It was a frequent occurrence to see the two clashing minds in hallways, classrooms, really anywhere in Hogwarts. Their rivalry was famous; or infamous, as it were. They were constantly harassing each other, and no matter how much she denied it, Hermione knew that the altercations were not always Malfoy's fault. Sometimes, especially on a bad day, Hermione had been the one to start the fight.

After the War, Professor McGonagall had offered the chance for any student to return for classes they had missed. Hermione, along with most of her class, had gone back in order to finish their education. During that time, Hermione had only seen the Slytherin in passing, and it seemed as if he had gone out of his way not to come into contact with either her, or anyone from Gryffindor. He, along with most of the elder Slytherin's, had taken their meals in their dormitory in the dungeons, preferring to have as little contact with the rest of the school as possible.

They had ended their seventh year at Hogwarts quickly, showing that all had learned something from the War: efficiency. They breezed through their classes and exams, rewarding Hogwarts and themselves with the highest average scoring on the N.E.W.T.'s the school had ever seen. Teachers throughout the school had made it their goal to give the senior class a memorable year. Detentions had been scarce, and punishment lacking real feeling. Although all were glad that they were alive, and happy to see their friends, the eldest class had been a somber, docile one. Many, if not most, simply wanted to finish the year and leave, yearning to get on with their lives and escape the dark memories the school held for them. Hermione and her friends were among that group.

Shaking her head, freeing herself from the past, Hermione slid her chair back, stretched her legs, cracked her knuckles, and moving back to her desk, began to take meticulous notes. As they had back in school, taking good notes had always helped her to remember the information she was given. Now, just like then, she was careful as her quill scratched across the parchment, making sure her notes were legible and neat. Hermione was the kind of person who would redo notes if she thought them messy.

"Hey, I heard from Harry about the case you got." Hermione looked up from her work two hours later to see Ron standing in the entrance to her cubicle. She turned her swivel chair to face him.

"I can't believe Proudfoot would agree to put you through the agony of being near _Malfoy_," Ron said, frowning. Hermione shrugged, tired of getting worked up over it.

"He explained the situation that he and the Minister were in that led them to picking me for the mission, and I understand and respect their decision." She leaned back in her chair. "Besides, I have to get out of this office _sometime_." Ron smiled, and Hermione was glad that her small, weak attempt at humor hadn't been a complete failure.

"So… when are you leaving?" Hermione grimaced and told him what she'd decided. "_Tomorrow?_ Why so soon? Surely you need time to, I dunno, _process_ the fact that you'll be spending a few days with the git and his parents."

"Actually, Ronald, I'll be bringing them to the safe house, and then… staying there with them…" She didn't miss the look of complete shock on his face. It quickly turned into one of anger.

"They can't seriously expect you to spend more than a week with that… that _ferret_." Hermione realized how upset her friend truly was when the old nickname came out of his downturned mouth.

"Ron, it's what's best for the family. I don't particularly like it either, but it's what I have to work with. The Minister gave me a direct order, and I have to follow it. If they want me to find the Malfoy's and bring them to a safe house in America, then I will. And if they want me to protect them once in America until they call me back here, then that is what I must do."

"I don't like it," he said, stating the obvious. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I know Ron, none of us do. But I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"I'll come with you." Hermione looked over at Ginny as they walked out of the Auror's Office.

"I would love for you to come, Gin, really, but I don't think Kinglsey will see it the same way." She smiled. "Feel free to ask, though." Ginny Weasley narrowed her eyes and tightened her jaw, looking as fierce as she had during the War.

"I _will_, see if I don't. And when he lets me go with you, we'll make a vacation out of it. It's safe to say we need one." Hermione nodded in agreement.

"When I come back, we'll take a _real_ vacation. Somewhere warm, and sunny. With lots of beaches. Somewhere… remote." Hermione sighed wistfully, wishing she could indulge in such a fantasy.

"Well, what did you have in mind?" the redhead asked, hoping to keep Hermione's mind off of tomorrow's excursion.

"Well, when I was little, my mother and I used to go through maps and point to places we wanted to visit. She would say things like Beijing, New York, Hawaii, Australia, and other touristy places like that."

"Is that why you sent them to Australia before the War?" Ginny asked quietly, already knowing the answer. Hermione smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"Yes. I wanted them to be happy, wherever they were." She didn't like thinking about what she had done.

"Do you… have you talked to them lately?"

"Not since my birthday last year… I pretended to be a sales clerk from an up-and-coming clothing line." Hermione smiled wryly at her methods of hearing her parent's voices, if only for a few minutes.

"You should call them tonight, before you leave. It'll make you feel better, if for no other reason." Ginny hated seeing her friend like this. "McGonagall hasn't gotten back to you about a potion or spell you can use?" Hermione shook her head.

"No. As far as I know, there's no way to get my parents to remember that I'm their daughter, that I exist." She tried to put a smile on her face, but at Ginny's pitying expression, knew that it wasn't working. "So, you were wondering where I would vacation."

"Yes, let's hear where shut-in-Hermione wants to go to get rid of her pasty complexion," Ginny teased, whooping for joy in her mind when she got her friend to giggle.

"I'm not _pasty_, Gin, I'm just not tan," the pale witch said in her defense. "I think I would most like to revisit the Queensland Islands. Our time there after the War was incredible. I was so relaxed and serene. I want that feeling again, Ginny."

"So, you want to keep being anti-social, just on a tropical island instead of dreary old London," Ginny said, grinning. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'm not anti-social, I'm just… not as outgoing as _you_," she retorted, nudging Ginny with her shoulder as they walked down the street. Ginny nudged her back.

"Don't worry, you're just a late bloomer. One day, you'll be just like _moi_." She looked so proud when she said it, that Hermione couldn't hold back her laughter. Ginny scowled at her.

"So are you leaving early in the morning, or later in the afternoon?"

"I haven't really decided, but I'm leaning more towards the morning. I want to get there as soon as possible, and sort of map out the area. There's no telling what kind of place the Malfoy's have chosen to hide out in. I don't relish being surprised, so I want plenty of time to find them." Ginny nodded and hugged her friend, much to Hermione's surprise.

"I'm really going to miss you, Mione," the younger witch whispered. Hermione hugged her best girlfriend back and knew that she would miss this too. "I'm going to go out and buy the shampoo you use, just so I can have a piece of you while I'm gone."

Hermione laughed. "Ginny, I might only be gone for two weeks!"

"Then my hair will smell like apples for two weeks," she said stubbornly. Dissolving in giggles, the two women slung their arms around each other. "I've decided to stay with you tonight. No one wants to be alone the night before a big trip."

"Gin, that's what people say when they have _boyfriends_," Hermione pointed out with a snicker. Ginny shrugged and said that it applied here too. "No it doesn't."

"Sure it does. We'll make hot cocoa, sit in front of the television, and watch bad movies. I'm still not sure what that means, but you've said it to me before, and now I want to do it."

"Then bad movie night it is," Hermione acceded, taking out her wand.

"Don't you want to walk the rest of the way?" Ginny asked, sounding surprised that Hermione would want to Apparate the rest of the way to her flat. Hermione usually loved walking to and from work, saying it was one of the best parts of her day.

"On a typical night, yes, but with the promise of hot cocoa and bad movies awaiting me there, I simply cannot wait that long." With that, she walked into an alley and, looking around, Apparated into her living room.

Ginny appeared a moment later, startling Crookshanks from his perch on the black leather sofa in the center of the room. Wiping herself off, Ginny hung her jacket on the coat rack by the door and sat down. The orange feline hissed and jumped down, as if saying it was fine, he preferred the spot on the ottoman better.

"I'll make the cocoa, you search for a movie." Hermione showed Ginny where she kept the DVD's and left her friend to it, walking into the small kitchen in the next room. She grabbed two mugs from the cabinet beside the sink, one black, one green, her favorite color.

Grabbing the cocoa from the pantry, she took the milk out of the refrigerator and siphoned it into both cups. Most people used water they boiled on the stovetop, but she liked using milk because it made the hot cocoa a bit creamier. And a microwave is just faster. Hermione thought of it as taking advantage of the 21st century. Putting the mugs in together for two minutes, she went to check on Ginny's progress with picking a movie.

Hours later, when Ginny was already asleep in the guestroom bed, Hermione lay awake, her mind buzzing. She wondered once more why she was chosen. Why she was given this particular case after so long without one. Why she had to stay with the family in America instead of handing them off to an American Auror.

These thoughts, and many more, whirled around in her head until finally, exhausted, she fell into a deep sleep. When Ginny woke her up in the morning, after she'd already slept through her alarm, Hermione felt as if she hadn't slept at all. Trudging through the morning, Hermione eventually made it to the office, her beaded bag over her shoulder. Inside, she had every possible potion she could need on the trip, multiple toothbrushes, toothpaste, a few hairbrushes, her favorite books, and the normal things she used to store in the bag with the help of the undetectable extension charm. It reminded her of when she had packed for herself, Harry, and Ron when they had gone searching for Horcruxes their seventh year. Except now she had a broom to ride, courtesy of Harry for her last birthday. He'd had to coach her to ride for weeks after he had gifted it to her.

"Miss Granger, I trust you slept well?" Proudfoot greeted amiably the moment she walked into her cubicle.

"As well as could be expected," she said, trying to keep the too-few hours of sleep out of her voice. She knew it wasn't a good idea to go on a mission on little sleep, as that prompted poor decisions, but there wasn't too much she could do about that now.

"We have settled the matter of transportation for yourself and the Malfoy's to the safe house in America." Handing her a blue tube of mascara, he smiled. "This is your one-way Portkey."

"Mascara, Sir?" He nodded and she sighed internally. Well, at least there was nothing for her to confuse it with in her bag. Shoving her hand into the hole that was the mouth of her purse, she placed the tube in between her books.

"It must be opened to be any use, in order to prevent an accidental trip." He shook her hand and wished her luck with her journey. "I assume you'll be Apparating to Paris and taking public transportation from there." He didn't say it as a question, for he knew that was exactly how she would do it, as Paris was the closest she had been to the Ukraine.

"Feel free to leave at any time, Miss Granger." He grinned. "And don't worry, that was not an attempt to get rid of you," he assured her with a laugh. She smiled and laughed with him.

"I'm just going to say the rest of my goodbye's, and then I'll be off," she affirmed. He nodded and turned, off to begin the day's business. Sighing, she went to find Harry and Ron, having already said her farewell to Ginny that morning.

She found them, not surprisingly, eating in Harry's cubicle, across the room from her own. The two boys waved her in warmly, as if there were a place for her to sit in the cramped space. Not wanting to prolong the departure any longer, she hugged them both quickly and promised to get in touch when she could. She knew that until she reached the safe house in Las Vegas, it would be very unadvisable to have any contact with _anyone_.

"Have fun, Mione," Harry joked, grinning up at her from his seat. She rolled her eyes and smiled, grateful for his attempt to cheer her up. Ron was not so helpful.

"Be careful Mione," he began grimly. She thought he would warn her once more of the dangers of these missions. It was not to be. "You never know when that slimy git will turn on you."

"Thank you, Ronald, that makes me feel _so_ much better," she said sharply. She may have snapped at Ron, but she couldn't deny that the thought had crossed her own mind late the night before.

"Sorry, I just don't trust him. Or his evil father." He had the decency to look a _little _contrite for his previous statement.

"They're not _evil_, Ron," Harry said without looking up from his copy of _The Quibbler_. He sounded tired, as if he'd had this argument with Ron many times before. Hermione didn't doubt it. Ron hated the Malfoy's just as much, if not more, than she did.

"Well, I'm going now," she said, turning. Ron stood up and walked with her to the pre-designated Apparition area of the office.

"Seriously though, Hermione," he said, putting both hands on her shoulders and turning her to look at him. "Be careful. We need you to come back in one piece, alright?" She smiled and patted his cheek.

"Don't worry Ron, I'll be fine. And if Malfoy tries to pull anything, I can always Transfigure him into a ferret." They both grinned at the joke, remembering their fourth year when Moody had done just that when Malfoy had tried to hex Harry when his back was turned.

Ron bent down and kissed her, much to her surprise, before turning and striding back to Harry's cubicle. She stood, stunned, for a moment before taking her wand out. Spinning in a circle, Hermione Apparated straight to Paris, France.

Hermione had consulted the all-knowing Google Maps before leaving her house that morning, and since there weren't any trains that would take her where she needed to go, she decided to drive out of Paris, and stopping in Reims, would grab something to eat before hopping on her broom and flying nonstop to Luxembourg, Belgium. From there, she would take a train to Frankfurt, Belgium, and after a half hour rest, another train to Brno, in the Czech Republic.

After the long drive out of Paris, Hermione was glad to get on a broom and into the open air. Careful to cast a Disillusionment charm on herself, she took off out of an alley not far from where she'd left the rented car. Proudfoot had informed her that any expenses were to be written down and the Ministry would take care of it. He and the Minister had already generously given her enough money to last a few years.

After an hour and a half in the air, she landed in Luxembourg and went right to the train station that would take her to Frankfurt, Germany. Luckily, not many people were on the train, so she had the seats around her to herself. She was able to fall asleep after just a few minutes, waking up half an hour before her stop. Over five hours into the trip, and she was ready to sleep for the next day. But, she had somewhere to be, so she reluctantly traipsed on after a half hour bathroom and lunch break in the city.

Two train rides and almost eight hours later, she was in Prešov, Slovakia. It was already eight at night, and she decided to make one more leg of the trip before turning in for the night. Antsy, Hermione found that she was drawn to her broom and the night sky above her. She didn't speed along as she had naively thought she would that morning, but enjoyed her flight instead, making frequent, short stops in cities below to restock on snack food and use the facilities. It took her an extra forty minutes, but Hermione was glad she had taken the time to relax a little while up in the clouds.

She stayed in the Pid Templem Hotel, a cozy little place that instantly relaxed her. She hadn't thought that there would be any five-star hotels in Ivano-Frankivs'k, Ukraine, and she was glad that they had this much to offer a weary traveler. She paid for a small room, which to her surprise, had a nice bathroom connected to the bedroom. Hermione knew that big-name hotels never had public-use bathrooms as an only option, but you could never be sure about small, obscure hotels.

Tipping the bellboy, she locked her door and went to the bathroom to change into the sleep wear she'd brought. She hadn't known what the weather would be like in Ukraine, so Hermione had packed for anything. It was a bit chilly, so she donned her usual gear for the winter in London. One pair of sweat pants, wool socks, and a t-shirt later, Hermione brushed her teeth, French-braided her long hair, and climbed into bed. For safety precautions, she cast a Scourgify on the bed first, unsure of what might be lurking between the mattress. Happy with the results of her quick bed-time routine, Hermione fell into a quick sleep. Tomorrow, she would make the last few stretches of the trip, and then, she would search for the Malfoy's.


	4. Chapter 3

After only six hours of sleep, Hermione Granger dragged herself out of her nice, warm bed and went to the small banquet hall on the first floor. After two cups of black coffee, a blueberry scone with butter, and a biscuit, she made her way back up to her room. She had noticed on the way in that there weren't any security cameras in the Pid Templem Hotel, so she had no worries about being caught coming, but not going. Opening the large window in her room, she Disillusioned herself and hopped onto her broom, flying carefully and shutting the window behind her.

Hermione landed behind a large sign that had the train map on it. No one was nearby, so she let go of the charm and put her broom into her beaded bag. She had mere minutes to spare as she reached the line of benches where the train would pick her up. There was a surprising amount of people taking the train out of Ivano-Frankivs'k, so she was unable to do anything but read a Muggle book she had brought with her. She wanted to finish the book she had bought from Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley, but was afraid that someone would see the moving pictures on the cover.

Three and a half hours passed before Hermione boarded her train out of Vinnytsia, her destination another three hours away. Hermione had since finished the Muggle book, and instead, brushed up on the notes she'd taken on the Malfoy family.

The file didn't tell her much that she didn't already know, thanks to Draco's incessant boasting in their school years. They were rich, powerful, and _very_ high up in the social ladder. Or at least, they _used_ to be. Now, their financial situation was unknown and they had very little power outside of Great Britain. But, unsurprisingly, the Malfoy's had not lost their status as one of the most socially known wizarding families in England. It may not be all good publicity the family gets nowadays, but the family name is still known and, Hermione admitted to herself, feared. Old habits die hard, as the saying goes.

Boarding her last train at 3:30 pm, she relaxed in her seat and thought about what her friends would be doing right now. She knew Ginny would be diligently working on whatever secretarial thing Dawlish had given her, a salad filling her stomach from lunch.

Harry would be chatting with Ron and Neville in between long bouts of secondary checks on the other half of the Death Eater reports, the half not usually given to her. She would give anything to be sitting at her desk, checking report after report, watching out for certain names, and passing on the necessary files. But, she was sitting on an uncomfortable train bench, headed for Kharkiv, Ukraine and the Malfoy's.

Ronald would be doing background checks on the applications and scouting information passed on to him from every wizarding school in Europe. Any student willing to be an Auror went through Ron's department first. Once the application had satisfied Ron, the student would be Owled for any additional information the Aurors required. When the last few empty lines were filled out, Ronald or one of his colleagues would contact the student and set a date for them to meet with either Proudfoot or Dawlish, or perhaps one of the other senior Aurors. Hermione had wanted that position at first, but now she was comfortable with her job at the Ministry, just as she was comfortable with all the other aspects of her life.

Hermione stopped that line of thought, preventing the internal debate she knew would ensue. Instead, she watched the scenery roll by as the train roared towards her destination. She pulled out the document that the Minister had given her. He said she was to show it to Lucius in her bid to convince him and his Pureblood family to follow her to America. She didn't know what it said, as it was sealed in an envelope, and she thought it rude to read other people's mail, even if it was inside her authority to do so.

As Hermione neared her stop, a worrisome thought popped into her head. She hadn't had any incidents since her departure of London, and that concerned her. Most people would think that a _good _thing, but any good Auror knew that on a mission, enemy silence was _never_ a good thing. She didn't exactly know who her enemy was, but the lack of action from them was something to watch for. She knew that her journey was straight-forward and direct, and that the many different trains and stops would only confuse someone who wasn't hell-bent on following her. Hopefully, there was no one like that anywhere near Kharkiv.

Once the train screeched to a stop, the metal clanging still ringing in the air, Hermione walked to the nearest café. She vowed that nothing would stop her from a cup of coffee, or three. The small, somewhat dirty establishment she found served coffee, so she was happy, even if there was nowhere for her to comfortably sit. Perching on a windowsill and gazing out into the seat, Hermione watched the people pass by. She had no idea what time it was, since the difference in time zones from London to Kharkiv was unknown to her, but she figured she had just been a part of the late afternoon work flow. She figured it was anywhere from 6 pm to 9 pm, give or take an hour.

Giving her mug back to the man behind the counter, Hermione wandered outside, headed for a suitable hotel to spend the night in. She was looking forward to spending the night in blissful sleep. The Malfoy's might not even be in Ukraine anymore, and she was determined to get a good night's sleep before leaving. She expected to be ready to search in the morning, or perhaps early afternoon.

What she didn't expect was to see was a platinum blonde blur off to her left. Glancing sharply in the direction of a small bar across the street, she saw, to her surprise, a man with long blonde hair and a cane walking in the opposite direction. Walking across the road in a bit of a daze, Hermione followed him. She didn't want to approach just yet, waiting to see where he would lead her. There was no telling what Lucius Malfoy had scrounged up in Ukraine, even while in hiding.

A few minutes later, a woman joined him from the doorway of a rather shady looking pub. The black hair with blonde underneath proved to Hermione that this was indeed the right trail. Even from afar, and after three years, Narcissa Malfoy looked as regal as ever. Hermione wondered where Draco was skulking when, five minutes later, after many twists and turns in their journey, a tall, blonde man in a black sweatshirt and jeans joined them. As she passed the building the young Malfoy had exited, she took a quick glance, and instantly wished she hadn't.

Inside, amid the dark lighting, were many scantily clad women waiting in corners and at the bar. No matter what part of the world, whores always looked the same. She should be surprised, but she wasn't. In school, the Slytherin Prince had another, well known nickname: the Slytherin Sex God. Many of her friends and enemies alike could attest to Draco's immaculate, renowned skill in the bed.

While she had been thinking about high school sex, Hermione had almost lost the trio in a crowd. Luckily, she spotted them turning a corner a block away. Even more fortunate, she spied the threat she had been waiting for: she wasn't the only one following the Malfoy's.

Pulling up the hood on her jacket, Hermione made her way towards the alley the four had disappeared into. She recognized the man from her seat in the café. He had been taking the same route as Lucius Malfoy then, but she hadn't taken notice of him because he'd taken a right onto a different street before Narcissa had joined him. But, where there was one, there was always another. Scanning the crowd quickly as she pushed through it, she saw one more hooded man with eyes only for the opening to the backstreet.

She watched as he entered the darkness only twenty meters in front of her. She had a hex on her lips, and her wand had been in her hand, ready, since she recognized the man from the café. She saw the first man up ahead, but not the Malfoy's. That is, not until an arm shot out from the shadows and pulled her off the road and into an alcove behind a group of dumpsters. An arm came around her, pinning her own limbs to her side, and another came over her mouth, preventing her speech.

She writhed in the arms of her captor, quickly making a plan for what she would do when she got free. Her hood came off her head when she bit the hand covering her mouth. A gasp made her pause in her attack. Ignoring the whispered cursing from her captor, she looked to her right and came face to face with Narcissa Malfoy.

"Hermione Granger?" the woman whispered, astonished. The cursing behind her stopped and she was spun around. Tilting her head way up, she met the steely gray eyes of the Slytherin Prince. He let a few more choice curses pass his lips before dragging her further into the alcove. Lucius was waiting in a doorway and stepped aside when Draco pulled her into the front room of what appeared to be their 'new house'.

"I'll let you go if you promise not to hex me, Granger," Malfoy hissed when the door closed behind Narcissa. Hermione glared up at him and kept her mouth shut. Growling, he shoved his wand under her chin with his free hand, which she could see had distinct teeth marks on it.

"Miss Granger, _please_," Narcissa begged, her eyes pleading with Hermione to agree with her son. Hermione was stunned to see the woman begging _her_ for anything.

"Alright," she said, keeping her eyes on Draco. He released her but kept his wand trained on her, his face hard. "You can get your wand off me; I'm not going to kill you." She heard the malice in her own voice, and by the narrowing of his eyes, so did Malfoy. His wand didn't waver.

"Somehow, I don't believe you," he snapped. Narcissa wrung her hands, looking back and forth warily between her son and one of his oldest enemies.

"Draco, lower your wand," his mother pleaded. After an incredulous look at her, he slowly put his arm at his side. Hermione noted that his grip on his wand was so tight that his knuckles were even whiter than usual.

"What are you doing here, Mudblood?" Malfoy sneered, ignoring the reprimanding look from his mother. No, nothing had changed here. He was still the same insufferable git he'd been since they were eleven. And at twenty-one, he acted no different.

Narcissa left the room, joining Lucius in the kitchen. Hermione could see them through the doorway. It seemed like they were arguing, but just like when she was young, the adults were attempting to keep their fights from the children. Draco noticed it too.

"Don't let them stop you. Why are you here?" When she didn't answer, he strode over to her, stopping inches before touching her. Hermione was proud of herself for not flinching; he was even more intimidating now than he'd been in school.

"Kinglsey Shacklebolt sent me," she said when the elder Malfoy's had rejoined them in the main room. She accepted the glass of water that Narcissa offered her, staying standing when Narcissa and Lucius sat on the ratty couch in front of her. Draco stood as rigid as ever a few feet to her right.

"He sent you to drag us back, didn't he?" Lucius asked, sounding tired. She looked closer at the man who had once frightened her almost as much as the Dark Lord himself.

His long blonde hair didn't have its usual luster to it. His cheeks weren't _as_ hollow as they'd been when she'd seen him at Malfoy Manor during the War, but he looked nowhere near the healthy figure he'd once been. She could see that he had not lost his sense of pride and social standing, because even though he was sitting on a worn down couch in a dump of a house in the backstreets of Ukraine, Lucius Malfoy looked every inch the proud aristocrat.

Hermione opened her beaded bag and pulled out the envelope Kingsley had given her, ignoring the way Draco threateningly pointed his wand at her. Passing it to the patriarch, she waited while he and Narcissa read it over. She had no idea what it said, but it must have been something meaningful, for the two looked up at her, astonished. Looking back and forth between her and his parents, Draco went to their side and read the letter over his mother's shoulder. His jaw was rigid when he looked up at her moments later, but he said nothing.

"Have you read this?" Lucius Malfoy asked Hermione quietly, seeming somewhat wary of the response. She simply shook her head and watched him release the breath he'd been holding. Taking his wand out of the handle in his cane, the man muttered 'Incendio' and watched the paper slowly burn in his hand. He placed it carefully on the floor and sat back, waiting for it to stop smoldering.

"When do we leave?" the older witch asked quietly, looking at Hermione for the first time since reading the mysterious letter. Hermione and the Malfoy heir gaped at her, surprised. She glanced at her son. "We don't have much of a choice, Draco."

Hermione could see that his mother's quiet pleading didn't have much of an effect on the tall, quiet Slytherin standing beside her. He frowned and glared at her, as if telling her with his eyes that she had no place in this conversation between family members. Hermione agreed wholeheartedly. There was nothing in the world that could make her want to stay and be a part of this argument.

"I'll be in the other room," she mumbled, excusing herself. Narcissa smiled at her as she passed. Hermione worked hard to keep the scowl off of her face. It wouldn't do to insult the witch in the presence of her powerful husband and hotheaded son. She closed the door behind her, wanting to give the three as much privacy as she could. A few seconds later, she could hear Draco whispering furiously. She had similar feelings about their predicament.

Hermione looked around the small kitchen in awe. She'd seen the Malfoy Manor, and she knew how wealthy the family was. They were used to big, lavish living, and this was nowhere _close_ to what that entailed. The kitchen comprised of a sink, small refrigerator, and cabinets with doors hanging off them.

Walking slowly in a large circle, she noticed something strange… The kitchen reminded her surprisingly of her own kitchen. Not in the physical way, more in the homey sense. It may be a dank room in a dirty house, but someone, most likely Narcissa, had made an attempt to make herself at home here. Plus, it looked like a family of Muggles lived here. She was sure that the Malfoy's hated that fact. It made perfect sense though; they couldn't risk using anything more than simple magic, so they lived the only way they could: like Muggles.

While she'd been inspecting the refrigerator, Malfoy had entered the room. She turned, jumping in fright when she noticed him standing in the doorway, watching her. His scowl didn't leave his face as he met her brown eyes.

"I don't trust you, Mudblood." She wasn't surprised one bit.

"Good, because I don't trust _you_, Ferret."

"Good!" She rolled her eyes at his need to have the last word. He stalked back into the front room, clearly expecting her to follow. She waited a moment, counting to ten in her head and taking calming breaths before going to stand before the family. They were all sitting on the couch, waiting for her to speak.

"I don't know what that letter said, and if it gave you any information, that's news to me." She met each of their eyes, trying not to flinch when the cold, grey ones looked back at her from the young man at the end. "They told me to find you. So I did. The next step is to bring you to a pre-destined safe-house."

"Where is this safe-house, exactly?" Mrs. Malfoy asked cordially. Hermione looked at her as she answered.

"In America. Las Vegas, Nevada, specifically." She waited, letting the information sink in before continuing. "I have a one-way Portkey in my bag. Once in America, I'll contact the Aurors and find out what our next move is."

"_Our_?" Slytherin's Prince looked incredulous and slightly disgusted.

"Yes, 'our'. I've been instructed to stay with you in the safe-house until further notice." She knew that some of her disappointment had leaked into her words by the way Narcissa glanced at her.

Draco looked spitting mad. "So my family has lost so much standing in the wizarding world that we're reduced to being babysat by a filthy, unworthy Mud—"

"_Draco_," Mrs. Malfoy said sharply, cutting off what had the beginnings of a great tirade. Hermione had expected no less from a Slytherin such as him. His rants were sounding much more promising than they were three years ago, from what she'd heard so far.

Hermione kept her eyes firmly on the older Malfoys, ignoring the prat completely. She told them what Proudfoot and the Minister had told her. They were just as surprised as she had been that an American Auror wasn't going to be taking over her job when they reached the safe-house. None of them had an answer to that riddle the Ministry had so kindly left her with.

"If you want to pack now, we can leave tonight." Hermione looked at the watch she'd packed in her bag; it was 10 pm now. She wondered what time it would be in America. She didn't remember if they were behind or ahead of London. It had never been something she'd deemed necessary to keep track of when she had a watch that changed times all by itself.

"We shan't take long," Narcissa promised with a wide smile, revealing two rows of perfectly white, straight teeth. Hermione bet the woman had been born with teeth that perfect. With dentists for parents, Hermione had always been self-conscious of her buck teeth. It took a spell from McGonagall to fix them.

Hermione waited by the door, watching as the three walked from room to room, surveying the area, grabbing something, and walking back out. Minutes later, another would come in, grab a few more things, and leave again. Fifteen minutes later and there were three bags placed in front of her. Narcissa graciously accepted her offer to carry the bags in her beaded purse. The trio watched as Hermione put her undetectable extension charm to use yet again.

"Everyone ready?" Only Lucius and Narcissa nodded. Draco stood silently in front of her, his face stony, his eyes on a spot above her head. Hermione ignored him, as she had been trying to do for the past half hour. Taking out the tube of mascara Proudfoot had given her, Hermione moved closer to the Malfoy's.

"Is this really the time for makeup?" Malfoy sneered, looking down his nose at her.

"This is the _Portkey_ you _idiot_," she seethed, already sick of his crap. She hated when he opened his mouth.

"Figures," he said, smirking. "Everyone knows _you_ don't wear makeup, even if it _would_ help you. Pity there's nothing on Earth that can help _you_." _Ignore him. Ignore him. Ignore him_, she chanted in her head, trying to keep her temper in check. It was working until he started to say something more, stopping at a scathing glare from her, but the smirk was wider and more malicious.

Hermione opened the small blue mascara and held on tight. Three hands touched the tube next to her own. In a few seconds, Hermione felt the familiar tugging in the pit of her stomach that was associated with traveling by Portkey. The room swirled and the floor dropped out from under their feet. She shut her eyes, hating the sight of the world spinning around her in a blur.

Hermione opened her eyes when she felt solid ground under her feet. She felt a bit nauseous, but she pushed it down, wanting to look around without being sick to her stomach. She stretched and walked around, casing the area. It looked like it would be a nice house to stay in on a trip, and for that she was glad. She was desperate for a real bed to sleep in.

The room they'd landed in was clearly the living room, with a large television, two couches and a coffee table, a lamp on a side table, and a shelf with a few books on it below the west facing window. The black couches reminded her of the one in her flat, and they were in the middle of the room just like hers was. They faced the television at an angle, which was against the southern wall a few feet from the front door. The small table and lamp were between both couches, and the coffee table was stationed in front of the left-hand sofa. The furniture setup made Hermione think of a pentagon, with the lamp and side table acting as the tip and the television as the base.

While she'd been examining the front room, the Malfoy's had wandered past the kitchen and to the back of the house. It was only one floor, so she assumed that's where the bedrooms were. If she was lucky, there would be three separate bedrooms.

Unfortunately, she wasn't so lucky. There were two bedrooms. One was clearly a master, with a large king sized bed as the main attraction. Beside the bed, there was a closet, a bureau, and the door to what she assumed was a bathroom.

The second bedroom had a queen sized bed, a closet, a bureau, and no bathroom. One of the doors they'd passed in the hall was most likely the bathroom she and Malfoy would be using. Lovely. She'd wanted as little contact with him as possible, and now they would be sharing a bathroom, among other things. Malfoy had already walked around the room and was standing in front of the bed, looking down at it. She took that to mean he was claiming this bedroom for himself. She took his bag out of her purse and put it on the floor just inside the room, not wanting to encroach on his space any longer than necessary.

She took the remaining two bags and put them in front of the closed door to the master bedroom. There was no point in disturbing the two adults just to give them their bags. She felt that they needed time alone to settle in. Hermione walked back into the living room and immediately pulled her fold-up cot out of her beaded bag. Taking the blankets and pillow out next, she shoved the cot into the back corner of the room, wanting to keep it out of the way. Once satisfied, she went into the kitchen.

It was simple, but well stocked. The refrigerator was running, the cabinets were in good shape, there was a sink, dishwasher, coffee machine, stove and range, a microwave, and a table for four off to the right side. All the appliances looked new, which was good; there was no telling if she would be able to order new appliances if one broke down. And she couldn't very well use magic to fix it, seeing as they were in _hiding _from _wizards. _She saw that the fridge was full of food that, luckily, she knew what to do with. She was glad she'd asked her mother to teach her how to cook during the summers at home.

She glanced at the clock hanging on the wall next to the doorway. It was a quarter past twelve here. They had hours before it would be dark again, despite the fact that Hermione felt like she could go to sleep then and there. Going straight to the coffeemaker, Hermione started scooping coffee beans she found in the cabinet into the machine. After adding water, she waited for the pot below to fill with the wonderful, dark liquid that would help her get through the rest of the day.

Deciding to do something productive, she began the preparations necessary for making pasta. She found a strainer, two pots, a box of penne, and a can of sauce. Happy to have something to do, Hermione was soon humming to herself as she worked, forgetting for a time that she was in a safe-house with three people she couldn't stand. When the meal was done, she scooped the pasta onto four plates, poured the sauce on top, and grabbed her cup of coffee from the table where she'd slowly been working on it. She left all four plates where they were on the table, not caring which one she got. It was only polite to let the guests choose first. She almost stumbled when she remembered that it wasn't Ginny, Harry, and Ron in the other room that she was cooking for. It was the Malfoy's.

Hermione walked to the back of the house and knocked on the door to the master bathroom. Narcissa's quiet voice told her to enter. She only opened the door enough to poke her head in and tell them that dinner was on the table. The woman smiled at her and thanked her for thinking of making food when she knew that they were all so tired. Hermione waved it off with a small smile, the first that she hadn't had to force out.

She didn't even bother opening Malfoy's door. She just knocked on it and told him dinner was in the kitchen. A grunt from inside told her he'd heard her. Rolling her eyes, Hermione went back to the kitchen and searched for three glasses. She'd seen some red wine in a basket beside the spice cabinet, surprised that whoever had stocked the house had thought of suck a luxury. She grabbed a beer from the refrigerator for herself after setting the wine and the three glasses on the table. Taking her beer and plate of food into the living room, Hermione sat down. She got right back up when she realized in her exhaustion that she'd forgotten silverware and napkins. Both were easy to find. The silverware was in a drawer next to the sink, and there was a napkin holder on the right side of the coffeemaker.

Hermione dumped out her cold coffee and put the mug in the sink before walking back to her seat on the sofa. Moments passed before the three Malfoy's went into the kitchen. She began eating, carefully cutting the pasta down with the knife before winding it around her fork. She could hear the quiet argument going on in the kitchen but she chose to ignore it. It was no doubt about her inability to make a decent meal for those accustomed to house elves preparing everything.

"Won't you join us in the kitchen?" Hermione looked up at Narcissa and shook her head.

"No, thank you. I'm fine in here." She smiled to put the woman at ease. Narcissa hesitated before turning and going back into the kitchen. The arguing was louder this time.

"See Mother? I told you she would say 'no.'" Draco said, somewhat smugly.

"Well Draco, perhaps if you hadn't been so _rude_ to Miss Granger, she would feel more comfortable around us." Hermione could only smile to herself at what she imagined Draco's face looked like right then. He was most likely gaping at what he thought of as pure nonsense.

"Mother, really, there's no need to coddle her. She's a big girl; she can take care of herself." Hermione may have agreed with this sentiment, but she would never let _him_ know that.

"I just think we should be a bit nicer to her. She's stuck here too, you know." She felt bad for thinking that Narcissa had been criticizing her cooking. She didn't want to hear any more of Malfoy's snide responses though, so she turned on the television.

Flipping channels, she realized that nothing was on that she would recognize. Since it was a Friday afternoon, she expected there to be _something_ entertaining on. After a few minutes, she settled on a movie she'd seen with her parents once, even though it was already half over. It was about a teenage girl and her love for a tall, sparkly man named Edward. If Hermione remembered correctly, Edward was supposed to be a vampire. Unsurprisingly, she didn't know a single vampire who sparkled in the sunlight in real life.

After the movie ended, Hermione took her dish to the sink and rinsed it before putting it in the dishwasher. She swirled some water around inside her beer bottle before putting it in the trash can beside the fridge. As she left the room, she heard chairs being pushed back from the table, and movement in the kitchen commenced once more.

"I need a nice, hot shower," Hermione muttered to herself. She was thanking every being she could think of that there was a shower in the bathroom in the hall. Taking her bag into the room with her, she locked the door and disrobed. She put her jacket, jeans, t-shirt, and undergarments in her bag and took out her shower kit and a large green towel.

While she waited for the water to heat up, Hermione considered her reflection in the mirror over the sink. She knew she was average height, probably around 5 feet, 7 inches. Her curly brown hair was down to her lower back, and being so long, it seemed thinner and much less bushy. Someone had even told her that it looked tame now, since as she'd grown older, her hair had settled.

Her body was fit, as it should be, as the hours at a gym in London would attest. She liked that she had grown into her body over the past three years, going from the awkward child she'd been, to the woman who looked back at her in the mirror. She could never compare her curves to someone like the Daphne Greengrass of her school days, but she knew that her hips were well proportioned, and her breasts were a good handful.

Pulling her hair back, Hermione inspected her face. She had a small nose above full, bow shaped lips. She had been told many times by Ginny that she was lucky to have such lips naturally. Puckering them for a moment, Hermione looked closely at her lips, frowning slightly when she saw the small scar she had from worrying her bottom lip with her teeth too often.

Hermione sighed and leaned away from the mirror. She stuck her hand under the stream of water and, happy with the heat coming from the showerhead, walked under the steady flow. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, letting the water run over her face and down the front of her body. Starting by rolling her head around on her neck, she slowly worked the stress out of her body, limb by limb.

Using the sponge she'd packed, Hermione squirted on the vanilla scented body wash and scrubbed herself all over, relishing in the feeling of physically being _clean_. She washed her face next, and then her hair. She smiled when she smelled apples, remembering Ginny's comment before she'd left.

"_I'm going to go out and buy the shampoo you use, just so I can have a piece of you while I'm gone."_

"_Ginny, I might only be gone for two weeks!"_

"_Then my hair will smell like apples for two weeks,"_

Hermione stopped what she was doing and closed her eyes, leaning her head against the wall. She let the water wash over the back of her neck while she tried unsuccessfully to hold back the tears she felt pricking her eyes. _I miss them_, she thought unhappily.

She jumped when she heard a knock on the door. Quickly rinsing the rest of the soap out of her hair, she shut the water off and got out of the shower, dripping on the bath mat. Toweling herself off, Hermione dressed as quickly as she could. She packed her shower kit back into her beaded bag after donning her nightwear appropriate for a climate like this. She was glad she'd brought the pair of boxers her and a friend from back home had bought as a joke one summer. They were plain black, and the most comfortable things she owned. She wore only a grey tank top and black bra on top, feeling it wouldn't horrify the Malfoy's _too_ badly, and it was simply too hot to wear anything more.

When she opened the door, head tilted to one side as she tried to squeeze the water out of her hair with the towel, Malfoy was standing there. He had his arms crossed and a scowl on his lips. She glared at the Slytherin for a second before slipping around him and walking to her cot in the living room. She turned after a few steps.

"What did you say?" Malfoy had on his patented smirk. She hadn't thought it could be any more irritating than it had been in their sixth year, but this one took the cake.

"Maybe you need to get your hearing fixed Granger, because I _said_, I never would have thought Gryffindor's Princess would _ever_ let Slytherin colors touch her pure little body."

"Grow up, Malfoy," she practically snapped, tired of his lip. He gave her one last haughty sneer before going into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

She was a bit startled to see that the Pureblood family had followed her lead and put their dishes in the dishwasher. She took the time to wash the wine glasses by hand, needing something mindless to do before sliding into bed. She found a hand towel in the drawer below the silverware and used it to dry the glasses. Putting them back where she'd found them, Hermione then left the towel hanging from the handle of a drawer to dry out.

She hung the green bath towel from the end of her cot, hoping it wouldn't fall off in the night and not dry properly. Sighing, she knew there was nothing left for her to do, so she slipped under the blanket she'd brought. After only a few minutes, she realized that it was too hot to use a blanket at all, so she folded it and put it at the foot of the bed.

Her eyes had been closed for a good ten minutes before she heard someone clear their throat nearby. Sitting up, she saw Malfoy standing a few feet away. She raised an eyebrow, wondering what he could _possibly_ want now.

"Mother told me to ask you if you wanted the second bedroom." She was sure she hadn't heard him correctly. "Father offered to sleep on the cot, and I would sleep with Mother." She could see how much it pained him to give up the large bed he had to himself.

"No, it's alright. I'm fine out here," she said quietly after a moment. He frowned.

"C'mon Granger, we know you like to be stubborn, but this is getting ridiculous." It was her turn to frown.

"I'm not being stubborn, and I appreciate the offer, but I would rather sleep out here." He rolled his eyes before glaring at her.

"Why can't you just… do you always have to…" He seemed at a loss for how to describe the way he was feeling about her declining the gracious offer.

"Look Malfoy, I want to sleep out here. It's cooler than in that bedroom, and I don't like sleeping in beds that big anyways." A smirk began to crawl across his face, but she held up a hand. "_But_, if you could tell your mother that I thank her for her charitable offer, that would be lovely."

He didn't move for a minute. The two looked at each other, her in her tank and boxers and dark, wet hair, him in just black silk pajama bottoms. His hair was still a little wet from the shower, and it hung over his eyes in clumps. They seemed to be assessing each other as the minutes passed. She noticed that he had filled out since she'd last seen him. She would have expected him to be thinner, but he'd built up even _more_ muscle, adding to what he'd gained from the strenuous Quidditch training he'd done over the years. He had prominent abdominal muscles, and every hard plain on his body made him look like he was carved out of marble.

When their eyes met, he simply nodded shortly and left the room. She lay back down, even more tired after their little spat. She was getting soft. Those thrree years away from Malfoy and their constant bickering was making her weak. She was sure that their time together would quickly whip her back into tough mental shape.

Hermione woke in the middle of the night and groggily pushed the blanket off her still sleepy form. It didn't faze her until she was getting back into bed, a glass of water in hand, that she'd gone to sleep _without_ the blanket. She was _sure_ that she had folded it and put it at the foot of her cot, assuming there would be no need for it in the desert. Little did she know, the desert got quite cold at night. Her last thought before drifting off to sleep again was that whoever had covered her had been very thoughtful.

A loud banging and some cursing woke her once more. When she opened her eyes, she could see the light streaming in through the east facing window in the kitchen. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, trying to clear out what the sandman had left behind. Glancing at the digital clock under the television, Hermione saw that she'd slept from 4pm to 8am the next morning; about sixteen hours. Luckily, she felt fully rested and ready to take on whatever the day had to offer.

When she meandered into the kitchen, she mentally retracted her previous statement. She was definitely _not_ ready to take on what Malfoy had been up to this early. Her mouth was open in astonishment as she took everything in. The coffeemaker was overflowing with the black liquid. The refrigerator door was wide open, letting all the cold air out. There was a pot of water on the range, water boiling over the top. A packet of oatmeal was all over the floor, grain everywhere. She looked up and met Malfoy's eyes, wondering what could have possibly made him want to make breakfast for himself before learning how to do it.

"What… how did you… what the hell?" she finally sputtered. Anyone else would have had the decency to look at least a _little_ bashful, but not Draco Malfoy. No, he just glared at her, as if the mess was entirely her fault.

"Maybe if you'd _shown_ me how to work these stupid Muggle contraptions, this wouldn't have happened!" he accused. She grit her teeth and strode over to the stove to turn the front burner off.

"Maybe if you had _asked_, I _would_ have," she shot back, resisting the urge to stick her tongue at him like a child. But, Malfoy _had_ always brought out the worst in her.

He waved his hand dismissively. "Whatever. Just fix it." She knew better than to wait for the 'please' that would never come. Huffing in indignation, Hermione knelt and used a paper towel to sweep the spilt oatmeal into a pile. She then wet the cloth and used it to carefully pick up every piece of oat and grain from the brown tiled floor.

"Close that door," she ordered as she dumped the useless breakfast into the garbage. He scowled at her, but did as she said. "Just unplug the coffeemaker completely; it'll be easier to clean up away from the wall." Malfoy did without the scowl this time as he followed her instructions, looking curiously at the electrical outlet for a moment before yanking the cord out of the wall.

There was still coffee all over the counter and dripping onto the floor, but at least everything was stone, and therefore easy to clean. She carefully moved the small appliance away from the wall, trying not to burn herself with the overflowing, scalding hot liquid. She was able to tilt the top into the sink and let the coffee drain out, but not without having to hold it from the top and let the burning stream rush over her fingers. Biting her lip, she lifted the bottom of the coffeemaker and dumped the rest into the stainless steel sink. Hermione quickly put the machine on the counter and tried to cool her burning hand by waving it around.

Malfoy turned the water on cold and grabbed her wrist, shoving her hand under the freezing flow. She had to bite her lip again as the warring temperatures played over her tender skin.

"You could have just used both hands and flipped it over," he said, as if talking to a small, stupid child. She glared at him through the tears she was holding back.

"My hands aren't big enough, and I couldn't get a good grip on it." She dared him with her eyes to make another comment on the matter, secretly craving a good row just then. To her disappointment, he walked to the refrigerator and took out a jug of milk.

"The bowls are in the top cabinet," she said when she noticed him searching around the kitchen. She figured he was going to try something else for breakfast.

"Where's the cereal?" She glanced at him in surprise, wondering where he would have eaten cereal. He shrugged. "Just because I don't know how to _make_ it doesn't mean I don't know what it is." She pointed to the door on the other side of the fridge that led to the pantry.

"Pour the cereal into the bowl," she instructed slowly, knowing it would incense him. She almost smiled when he narrowed his slate-gray eyes at her.

"Cereal, Granger, I can make." He proved it by grabbing a spoon and chasing the golden flakes with 1%. "I'll leave lunch and dinner up to you."

"Good. I don't want to clean up your mess after _every_ meal." She ignored the voice in her head that said she was lightly teasing him, instead of their usual outright insulting.

His only reply was to tell her to shut up around bites of Frosted Flakes. Hermione rolled her eyes and rooted around in the refrigerator for ingredients to whip up an omelet. She found eggs, grated cheese, onions, ham, mushrooms, and peppers. She moved the large pot of water to the back of the stove and replaced it on the front burner with the frying pan she'd found under the sink. She took the milk from where Malfoy had left it on the table in front of him and mixed it with her two cracked eggs in a small bowl.

She didn't notice that she was humming to herself until she saw him looking at her, his spoon halfway to his still-open mouth. If he had been anyone else, she would have laughed at the comical expression on his face. But, since it was Malfoy she was sharing breakfast with, she just turned around and sprinkled the cheese on her omelet. When she added the chopped ingredients, she almost sighed in pleasure at the delicious aroma that wafted up to her. Using a spatula, Hermione flipped half the omelet onto itself and let it sit that way for a moment before lifting it out of the pan and putting it on her plate.

She could tell Malfoy wished he had an omelet by the way he was staring at it when she put it on the table, his bowl of soggy cereal forgotten. She grabbed two napkins and used one as a temporary plate for the small slice of omelet she cut off for him. Sliding it across the table, she passed him a fork and went to get some of the orange juice she'd spotted in the fridge.

When she returned to her seat with a glass of the orange deliciousness, she noticed that the piece of food was gone, the fork left clean where she'd put it, and Malfoy was sucking on his thumb and forefinger. Neither of them said a word, but the corner of Hermione's lips turned up a little as she looked down at her plate and focused on eating her cooling breakfast. Moments later, he got up and dumped the rest of his cereal into the sink, putting his bowl on the cutting board. He at least threw away the napkin before walking out of the kitchen and leaving her to clean up the remainder of his first attempt at the morning meal.

Around ten o'clock, the elder Malfoy's joined Hermione and Draco in the living room. Hermione was sitting on one couch, reading a book she'd brought. After showing him how to work the remote, she'd left Slytherin's Prince to find himself something to entertain himself with. She wasn't sure what he was watching, or if he could even understand it, as it was in Spanish. She had the feeling that he was as confused as she was with the Latino soap opera.

"Morning," Narcissa Malfoy said brightly, smiling at both of them as they glanced up at her. Hermione smiled back and Draco mumbled a gruff 'good morning' from his perch. His father wasn't far behind, already dressed in the Muggle clothes he'd picked up somewhere. No one in the wizarding world would mistake Lucius Malfoy for a Muggle, even in black slacks and a simple white button-down shirt.

"Have you made contact with the Aurors?" Narcissa asked Hermione as she took the seat beside her, leaving Lucius to lounge in the open seat next to his son.

"No, I haven't made the call yet." She felt a little guilty for not thinking to do so earlier. Based on the time they'd arrived the day before, she figured it was around 6pm in London. "I'll go do that right now."

Rising from the couch, she went to her cot and rummaged around in her bag for the coin Proudfoot had given her. The usage of the magical coins had been her idea, based off of their use by Dumbledore's Army during their fifth year at Hogwarts. She held the coin in her hand and thought 'we are here', watching as her coin quickly displayed the message. Putting the knut on her bed, she grabbed her bag and went to the bathroom to change for the day.

When she returned, dressed in a simple outfit of brown shorts and a light purple button-down business shirt, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She'd pulled her long hair into a ponytail on the back of her head, glad it was still behaving in this heat. Grabbing the coin from on top of her bed, she saw that there was a message waiting for her. She watched as, when she held it in her hand, the words began to move, allowing her to read the whole message as it scrolled by.

'_Glad to hear you're safe in America. Go into town and get clothes to fit in, as I'm sure they don't have much. Be careful._' She relayed Proudfoot's message to the Malfoy's. Narcissa nodded and stood, her black sundress swirling around her legs.

"Well, get up! You heard the girl, we're going shopping." Both men groaned as if in great agony. Hermione and Narcissa shared a knowing smile. The older witch looked Hermione over as she walked to the other side of the sofa. "Your hair is such a different color than mine… maybe we should dye it, just for now."

"We should all get something done with our hair. Even the smallest changes can make a person look completely different," Hermione said. She swore she saw Lucius and Draco look at each other nervously. They both joined the women in the space behind the couches.

"Let's get going," Mrs. Malfoy said, clapping her hands together. She looked so happy that she had something normal to do, like shop. Hermione could only imagine how much the woman had missed such a mundane task while they'd been in hiding.

"Draco, eyes straight," his mother admonished quietly when Malfoy's gaze strayed too long on a particular woman that passed them. Hermione rolled her eyes at the satisfied, arrogant smirk he had on his face as they made their way down the street towards the hair salon Narcissa had spotted.

"Hi, welcome to Hair Creations by Jade, how may I help you today?" The brightly-smiling young woman behind the receptionist desk made no attempt to hide the fact that she had eyes only for Draco after looking the others over quickly. Hermione rolled her eyes again, wishing she could put a bag over the man's head.

"Do you take walk-ins?" Hermione asked politely, trying to drag the girls' gaze away from the smirking man beside her.

The receptionist slid her eyes slowly back to Hermione, as if _very_ reluctantly. "Of course. What are you thinking about today? A cut, trim, dye, new style…?"

"I would like to get a trim and have my hair dyed," Narcissa answered. Her gaze was hard as she looked at the girl whose eyes kept drifting back to stare almost hungrily at her son. Trying not to smile, Hermione looked around and thought of what she should change about her hair.

"If you'd like more time to think, Donna will show you to the back room where you can look over some styling books we have." As if on cue, another woman came forward. Luckily, the woman looked like she was in her mid-forties, saving Hermione from having to watch another woman drool over the prat.

Or so she thought. When they reached the back room, Lucius staying behind with his wife, Donna didn't take her eyes off of Draco. Hermione had to stop herself from rolling her eyes for a third time.

"I know _exactly_ what to do with this," the woman said, reaching up and taking some of the Slytherin's hair between her fingers. Hermione admonished herself for assuming the woman had been captured by Malfoy's good looks, when she had in fact, been assessing what would be the best look for the man.

"Either _you_ dye your hair brown, or I dye mine blonde," Hermione said without looking up from the styling book she was flipping through. Donna had left to get back to her client, leaving the two in the back room.

"Dye that bush blonde," he answered immediately. "I wouldn't _think_ of putting your dreary color on _my_ head." He smirked at her. "Brown just isn't my color. Besides, my look is _always_ natural."

"Nice look," Hermione said calmly. "The bags under your eyes are a good touch." Before he could come back with something she was sure would have been very witty, Donna came and dragged him off. Left alone to look through the rest of the book, Hermione decided that she would change the color, but leave it the length it was. She liked her long hair.

"Hi there, I'm Nadine. Come with me hon," a gorgeous woman said a few minutes later, taking Hermione's hand in hers as she led her to an open chair. "I _love_ your hair. It's such a pretty color, and these curls are just to _die_ for." Hermione didn't miss the snort coming from the other side of the mirror where Donna was working on Malfoy.

"What would you like done?" Hermione fingered her curls as the woman pulled the elastic out of her hair.

"I was thinking of dying it and just getting it trimmed a bit," she said slowly. Nadine nodded and fluffed up Hermione's hair a bit.

"What color do you want?" Hermione didn't know how to put it without getting another snide response from the man behind the mirror.

"The color of that woman's, over there," she said, pointing to where Narcissa sat chatting away with the woman next to her. "The blonde part, I mean." Narcissa had the same color silver-blonde in her hair that Draco and Lucius did.

"Why such a drastic change, dear?" Nadine asked as she began pulling rubber gloves over her hands.

"I lost a bet with my cousin," she lied, surprised at how easily she had spoken the untruth. Nadine smiled though, as if she had customers tell her that all the time.

"Well, you just sit back and relax, I'll do the rest." Hermione leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes, deciding she didn't want to watch her transformation.

Twenty minutes later, she was sitting under the dryer, letting the dye soak into her hair. She read a magazine as she waited. The article she was on was titled _The Top Fifty Ways to Pleasure Your Man_. Some of the points were quite naughty, while others were downright laughable. Hermione may have loved reading educational books, but she also liked to read silly things like this to help her relax.

When Nadine flipped the large dome up and pulled her to her feet, Hermione was practically sweating from the combined heat of the afternoon and the hair dryer. She sighed in relief when the cold water touched her head as Nadine shampooed and conditioned her hair. With her head hanging over the sink, Hermione felt relaxed and let her muscles rest as the other woman massaged her scalp. Wringing the water from her hair, Nadine put a towel around Hermione's shoulders and brought her back to the chair in front of the mirror.

As Nadine combed out her long hair, Hermione heard Donna and Draco laughing together. She didn't recognize the sound, having never heard it before. It was… nice. It sounded so open and genuine that Hermione actually liked the sound of it. She wondered briefly what had made Draco Malfoy laugh like that.

"I assume you want your eyebrows to match?" Nadine asked, interrupting Hermione's thoughts. She nodded and went back to letting the other woman have control. A few minutes later, she was spun around in her chair and she felt a brush lightly stroke over her brows. It must have been a different kind of dye, because Nadine didn't wait for it to dry; she simply let it sit for a moment before using a wet cloth and soap to wipe over her entire forehead.

An hour later, Nadine told her that she could look in the mirror. Hermione had been a little concerned when she'd heard the snipping of scissors behind her, and then even more so in front of her face. Instead of looking at her reflection, she stood and went to where the Malfoy's sat, waiting for her.

Narcissa had dyed the rest of her hair blonde and had it curled so that it fell in loose ringlets around her face and over her shoulders. The curls framed her regal face, making her every inch the rich aristocrat, in Hermione's mind.

Lucius had gotten his hair cut short. He was running his fingers through it, clearly not used to such a length. She thought he looked younger, healthier, without his long hair hanging in his face.

Slytherin's Prince looked as good as ever. He'd gotten his hair cut short, but his bangs were long, feathering across his brow and a little over his left eye. He too was running his hand through his hair, though not in unease as his father was. Draco was completely comfortable with his new look. No surprise there.

What _was_ surprising was the way the three were staring at her. Draco's hand had stopped mid-swipe and he was staring open-mouthed as he looked her over. Narcissa was smiling at her, her light brown eyes shining. Her husband just stood there and watched her, as if gauging _her_ response to the way they were looking at her.

"Oh, Hermione you look _beautiful_," Mrs. Malfoy said after a minute. Hermione took a strand of hair in her fingers and tugged on it nervously. She wasn't sure she was ready to look at herself just yet. Narcissa didn't give her a chance, taking her shoulders and spinning Hermione around to look in the full-length mirror behind her.

Hermione gasped at her own reflection. She was so _blonde_! Nadine had blow-dried her hair straight, curling the ends a little to give it some volume. Hermione's usual middle part was disregarded, her hair parted instead on the right, her hair and new bangs flowing to the left. She ran her hand through the bangs, liking the way they fell lightly against her forehead.

As she looked at the New Hermione, she glanced over her shoulder and saw Malfoy staring at her in the mirror. Their eyes met in the reflection and neither looked away until Narcissa pulled Hermione's attention away.

"So, how are we to pay for this?" she asked Hermione quietly while running her fingers through Hermione's straight hair.

"The Ministry gave me plenty of American money before I left. We'll be fine." As she spoke, Hermione dug through her bag and found said money, careful not to flash too much of it around.

"That'll be $50 for the dye and style, $30 for both cuts, and $80 for the dye and trim," the receptionist told Lucius when they approached the counter. She looked at Hermione, surprised, when she was handed the money. "Thank you, have a nice day!" She smiled brightly at Draco before turning back to her appointment book.

"I think it would be best for everyone if we stopped for lunch," Narcissa suggested as they left the salon. Lucius took her hand in the crook of his arm and walked ahead of the two youngsters, looking every inch the sophisticated couple as they strolled the streets of Las Vegas.

"So… you lost a bet with your cousin, Granger?" Malfoy smirked as he walked beside her.

"What would you have liked me to say, oh judgmental-one? 'Hi, we're in hiding and I would really appreciate it if you could make us all look very different so that the bad men chasing us won't recognize us.'" She shot him a skeptical glance when he grinned.

"Granger, if I didn't know any better, I would think you _had_ been sorted in Slytherin." He paused. "Take away all that 'heart on your sleeve' nonsense, and you would have made a _very_ good Snake." He continued when she gaped at him, not missing the spark of fear in her eyes.

"I mean, you have your moments when you can be _quite_ calculating. Even more so than a lot of Slytherin's much older than you and I. You keep secrets, contrary to the Gryffindor belief that secrets are bad." He rolled his eyes, whether at the way she began to protest, or at the thought of secrets being bad.

"I do _not_ keep secrets," she said quietly as a woman with a stroller passed by. Malfoy shook his head.

"You might as well stop denying it, Mudblood. If you had been born to a family like mine, you would have been in Slytherin." He grinned. "Slytherin's Prince and Princess, how fitting."

"You're a horrid person," Hermione muttered, ignoring the way his grin lit up his face. He snickered and led them into the restaurant his parents had entered. The maitre d' led them to the table in the back where the elder Malfoy's were seated, already looking over a list of the wines.

"Dear, what took you two so long?" Narcissa asked without looking up from the menu. Draco shrugged and blamed their tardiness on Hermione and her inability to walk fast. Hermione bit back her protest as the waitress approached the table.

"Hello, my name is Hannah, and I'll be your server today!" she said, portraying the stereotypical perky teenager. Both men continued to look over their menus while Hermione and Mrs. Malfoy smiled at the girl.

While Narcissa and then Lucius gave their orders, Hermione looked at the people around them. They might be eating lunch in a nice restaurant, but that wouldn't stop Death Eaters or whoever else was out there from trying something. When she was satisfied that the elderly couple and the family of five didn't look like an imminent threat, she looked back at the waitress.

"One cheeseburger, medium-well, a side of fries, and a Bud Light," Hannah reiterated as she wrote Draco's order down on her pad of paper. Hermione was shocked. When she looked across the table at Malfoy, he simply raised one perfect brow at her.

"And for you, Miss?" Hannah had her pen poised over the paper while she waited for Hermione to place an order.

"I'll have what he had, and a glass of water, please." If Malfoy wasn't going to order from the adult menu, then neither was she. She was craving something fried anyways.

"Don't look at me like that," Hermione said when Draco frowned at her. Narcissa covered a smile with her hand. "If you don't have to order something you can barely pronounce, then I can order what I want. And before you start, no, I did not want a burger simply because you ordered one, you pompous prick." Even Lucius was shaking his head at this point. Draco was taking her ranting very well, an eyebrow still cocked, but with a silly smirk underneath it.

Twenty minutes later, their food arrived on the arms of a tall, busty redhead with a dazzling smile. Hermione almost groaned. Hannah must have opened her mouth about the appearance of one of her tables, and this older girl pulled seniority. Poor, foolish Hannah.

"Cheeseburger, fries, and a Bud Light?" Draco merely raised his hand off the table. The woman smiled quite flirtatiously and placed his plate in front of him. "Excellent choice, Sir, the Bud Light is our best seller." She kept up the smile while she handed out the other three plates from her tray, but without the commentary or winking. Hermione could practically feel the hostility rolling off of the female Malfoy beside her. She was surprised that the woman, Angel as she told Draco, didn't feel it as well.

"With a name like Angel, I'm sure the tart's parents were drinking more than _Bud Light_ when they had her," Narcissa commented dryly when the redhead had left. "Angel indeed!"

"Mother," Draco admonished. "I'm sure she's a very… nice girl." He couldn't hide the smirk that forced itself onto his lips. Glancing at Hermione, he added, "At least she's sure of what she wants in life."

"What're you getting at, Ferret?" Hermione snapped. Narcissa put up a hand, stopping the two before they tore into each other.

"Let's get through one meal a day without you two ripping each other's heads off, if you please." She looked sharply at the young Slytherin and Gryffindor. "I would like to have a peaceful lunch after such an… interesting first day in America."

"My apologies, Mother," Malfoy murmured, taking a sip of his beer. He looked at Hermione over his tilted bottle, the smirk evident in his gray eyes. She scowled at him and dipped a fry in ketchup before popping it into her mouth.


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: I couldn't stop writing, so this is going up now instead of next week when it was supposed to Enjoy! Don't forget to Review at the end!**

**Thanks to maggy black and C-Dizzle for reviewing! Always appreciate other people's input!**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling, except the plot. **

"That was a lovely meal," Narcissa said as they paid the check and left. When Angel saw that her prey was leaving, she smiled prettily and winked at Draco, before handing him a slip of paper. She sashayed away before Narcissa could catch the girls' eyes and skewer her with a glare.

"Some parts were much more enjoyable than others," Lucius commented. Malfoy snickered. "Draco, you really shouldn't encourage them. They're only _Muggles,_ after all." _And I thought we'd been making progress_, Hermione thought with a small sigh.

"It isn't _my_ fault I'm so good looking," the cocky git replied with a cat-ate-the-canary grin. Both his parents looked at each other before walking towards the closest clothing store.

"Really Ferret, I'm surprised at you," Hermione said quietly as they walked. He looked at her. "I wouldn't have picked you for the type to chase girls who haven't been girls very long."

"What_ are_ you talking about, Granger?" he queried, looking at her with a small frown. The smirk she shot him rivaled one of his own.

"You mean you couldn't tell?" she asked innocently. His frown deepened. "Dear Angel has a prick."

"And you call _me_ a horrid person. Granger, I believe that is called _lying_, and I thoroughly disapprove of your insults of her." He shook his head at her. She snorted indelicately.

"I'm sure you didn't notice because you were too busy staring at the plastic inserts she calls her breasts. Just like you didn't notice her Adam's apple I assume." She only caught the quick flash of surprise because she was watching for it.

"Well I'll be damned," he said, grinning like a fox. "I guess I must be positively _mouthwatering_ to be attracting those of the opposite sex."

"If that's what helps you sleep at night, Malfoy, you can continue with your delusions," Hermione said with a sigh. Men, honestly. They were born with egos the size of a house.

"Don't worry Granger, I don't swing that way. Besides, redheads aren't my style, if you must know." He leaned in close and grinned at her. "I much prefer brunettes." Leering, Slytherin's Prince lengthened his long strides and pulled away from her. Hermione grit her teeth and followed him into the store.

"Go try these on," Mrs. Malfoy commanded, shoving a pile of clothes into her son's arms. Hermione snickered until the older woman picked up another pile from a nearby chair and shoved _those_ into her arms. Draco barked a laugh and headed for the back to find a dressing room. Scowling, she followed, entering the open room beside his.

"Don't even _think_ of taking the clothes off before showing me," Narcissa warned. Hermione groaned, getting a chuckle from Draco a few feet away.

"Get used to it Granger, Mother _always_ gets her way."

"Of course I do," the woman sniffed, as if any other way was preposterous.

Hermione looked at the clothes in her arms. Everything she saw was either silk, cashmere, or some exotic looking material she had never seen, but all were expensive. Hanging the clothes on the hooks beside the full length mirror, she stripped her own clothes off, picking out a deep purple dress first. Conscious of the short length and thin straps before even donning the garment, Hermione pulled the dress over her head.

"Here, try these on. I guessed at your size." A pair of strappy silver heels was passed to her through the curtain. Sighing, Hermione lifted a foot and slipped into the shoe, hooking her finger in the back and drawing it up over the back of her heel, securing the shoe. Switching feet, she put the other shoe on in much the same manner. They fit perfectly.

"Would you like me to help you?" a store clerk asked from the other side of the curtain. Hermione went out to the sitting room and moved her hair off of her back so the woman could slide the zipper up to the top of the dress.

"Lovely," Narcissa commented. Hermione walked carefully to the wall of mirrors, trying not to trip in the new heels.

The dress fell to just below her knees in a swirl of satin. Hermione turned to look at the back in one of the side mirrors. The backline fell right where her bra usually would, which was a little low for Hermione's taste. The front was a whole other matter. Simple in its own right, the neckline came to a sharp vee halfway down her chest, showing entirely too much cleavage.

"Quit hogging the mirror, Bookworm," Draco said as he sauntered over, looking quite dashing in a black suit and tie ensemble. Hermione moved back to let him look at himself from multiple angles. The black trousers were just tight enough that one could appreciate the fine figure that was Draco Malfoy. The suit jacket fit very nicely considering it hadn't been tailored.

"Go on, back in there with you," Narcissa ushered, shoving them both towards the dressing rooms. Hermione sighed and unzipped the dress behind the black curtain, letting the material pool at her feet.

Forty-five minutes passed as Hermione and Draco tried on outfit after outfit, modeling them for Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. In between outfits, they could hear Draco's parents trying on their own clothes. By the time Hermione had reached the last garment, she was ready to never buy clothes again.

The silk felt wonderful between her fingers as she took it off the hanger. The only way she could think to describe the color was Slytherin green. Taking her bra off again for the halter-top tie, Hermione slipped into the dress. Thankfully, this one was floor-length. She walked out into the sitting room to see only Narcissa waiting patiently in a leather chair. The older woman beamed at her as the clerk helped Hermione zip the dress and adjust the front to cover as much of her breasts as possible. Hermione had to hold her hands at her sides in order to leave the plunging neckline where it was, baring most of her chest to the world.

"You look stunning, dear." Hermione smiled at Mrs. Malfoy and spun in the mirror, watching the fabric flow around her. "Draco and Lucius are putting away the disregarded items. Why don't you change out of that dress and we'll get going. I've had enough shopping for today."

"I'll only be a moment." Hermione carefully took the dress off and put it back on the hanger. She slipped back into her shorts, button-down shirt, and thong sandals. Wiggling her toes around to get the blood flowing back into them, she brought the clothes to where the Malfoys were waiting at the front of the store.

"We'll take these," Narcissa said, pulling certain items from Hermione's arms. The clerk looked at the group of people, wondering who these people were that they could afford such clothing. She carefully wrapped each article in tissue paper before putting it in a bag. The men slid multiple bags onto each arm, leaving the women free to walk ahead and talk.

"Would it be possible to Apparate back to the house instead of walking?" Draco asked, trying not to struggle with the many bags he carried. Hermione looked around the streets and led them to a momentarily deserted alleyway. The four Apparated with a _pop_, disappearing from the backstreet in seconds.

"Mother, you really should learn to control your addiction," Malfoy chided with a smile as he and his father put the shopping bags on the couches. Narcissa laughed, producing a bright tinkling sound.

"Dear, it is not an addiction. It's a habit and favored pastime." She petted her husbands' cheek with clear affection. "Blame your father for allowing me such a luxurious lifestyle for so many years."

"Learn from me, son," Lucius said, looking at his wife fondly. "Give them anything they want, and you will be a happy man."

Hermione and Draco looked at each other, confused by the overwhelming affection the elder Malfoys were showing publicly. His parents walked to their room, laughing, arms around each other, her head leaning on his shoulder.

"Well that was… odd," Malfoy said slowly. Hermione nodded.

"Do they act like that often?" He shook his head.

"That's the first time I've seen them so happy together in a long time… since I was a small child, actually." He looked thoughtful as he watched his parents' retreating figures. "I think shopping gave her the energy to be happy again."

"That's strange," Hermione muttered. Malfoy looked at her with a raised brow. "Shopping zaps _my_ energy."

"That's because you don't go shopping enough. It's like training for Quidditch; you start out slow and build up your endurance. It's a process. You should come—." He stopped abruptly.

"Draco Malfoy, were you about to tell me to go shopping with you more often?" Hermione teased, grinning. He huffed and looked down his nose at her.

"Of course not. I don't shop with Mudbloods, least of all _you_." Her smile fell immediately at the haughty way he held himself, as if he were miles above her on the social ladder. He made her feel as if she wasn't even the same species as him. She imagined that's _exactly_ what he wanted.

"Well excuse me _Your Highness_, I'll just go now," she snapped, eyes narrowed. She curtsied mockingly, before she turned and went into the kitchen, leaving him standing in the middle of the room.

Muttering things about insufferable gits, Hermione washed the dishes from breakfast that morning, doing them by hand instead of sticking them in the dishwasher. Manual labor had always helped to calm her down when she was in the worst moods.

She had learned this after a particularly bad row with Malfoy one time during fourth year. He had said she must have given Krum something worthwhile to get him to keep coming back for more. At the time, insinuating she was paying Viktor Krum with sex for going to the Yule Ball with her had angered her beyond belief. She'd gone straight to an empty classroom, locked the door, and cast a 'Silencio' around the room. Transfiguring a desk into a blow-up replica of Malfoy, she'd first cast various hexes at it, but when that didn't calm her rage, Hermione had thrown a punch at 'his' face. Surprisingly, that had helped a lot. She had spent the next twenty minutes imagining that she was beating Malfoy to a pulp, and having a good time doing it. Besides when she'd actually punched him in third year, which was the first time Hermione had ever enjoyed the feeling of being violent, she'd never felt as good after a run-in with the Ferret.

When the dishes were done, she decided that she needed to get out of the house. Grabbing her wand, Hermione took a jacket from her bag and walked out the front door. She didn't know where she was going, and she didn't particularly care. As long as she couldn't see Malfoy's face sneering down at her, she liked where she was. Hermione walked and walked, only stopping once to take her shoes off when they became uncomfortable. She strolled barefoot down the streets, enjoying the breeze that lifted her hair off of her neck and blew it back from her face.

It was so peaceful on the outskirts of the city that Hermione didn't notice that there were fewer people the longer she walked. It grew darker and darker as time passed, and when the street lights became her only source of light, Hermione decided she had walked enough. Closing her eyes, she stopped.

She was about to turn and walk back the way she'd come when the hairs on the back of her neck practically stood on end. She tensed, gripping her wand inside the jacket pocket. Turning slowly, she looked around. She couldn't see anyone, but that didn't mean much. If she was being followed by a Muggle, it would be difficult to see them if they didn't want to be seen. If it was a witch or wizard watching her from the darkness, she was in deep shit.

"Why do I get myself into these kinds of situations?" she muttered angrily to the wind. It picked up, blowing sand around her into the air. Squinting her eyes to keep the sand and dirt out, she walked back towards the city. Watching the bushes and trees, Hermione carefully made her way to the safe-house. When she got there, she didn't feel relieved, as she thought she would. Instead, she felt like someone was watching her.

Opening the door, she found a wand pointed at her face. Glaring into the slate gray eyes, she held herself back, though she was itching to lift her own wand protectively. Malfoy watched her, eyes narrowed and hard as he took in her disheveled, sandy form.

"Who do I hate most of all?" he growled. She blinked, surprised. "Answer the question."

"Me. Now get that bloody thing out of my face before I shove it up your arse," Hermione snarled. He lowered his wand.

"It's Granger alright. No one else would _dare_ speak to me like that." His eyes were still narrowed as he took a few steps away from her. "Why are you so dirty? Have a nice roll in the sand, Mudblood?"

"We're in the desert, you idiot. There's this thing called the _wind_, and it picks the sand up off the ground, and sometimes, it gets all over a person walking outside. I know it's a difficult concept for your empty brain to manage, but I'm sure you'll get the hang of it."

He raised his wand again, lips pulled back from his teeth in a very intimidating expression. "Insult me again. I _dare_ you." She took a step forward and his wand came up between them.

"What, are you afraid I'll break your perfect nose again? Grow up; I'm not going to hit you." She snatched her beaded bag from the cot in the corner of the room. "And next time, you might want to ask a harder question. Anyone with eyes knows we hate each other most." On that note, Hermione stormed into the bathroom.

She stripped her clothes off almost violently, very nearly ripping her shirt in her anger. _Why does he have to be such an unbearable git? One would think that with a mother like his, he would be a little nicer to people._ Hermione realized that she had come to like the Malfoy matriarch. The woman was kind to her, something she wouldn't have believed, had someone told her a few days ago. _Though I suppose with Lucius for a father, he can't have had too good a role model._ She knew that wasn't completely fair. Although Lucius still openly disliked Muggles and Muggle-borns, he wasn't the same stuck-up, egotistical man she remembered. The War had certainly changed the Malfoy parents. Too bad the son hadn't changed one bit.

With hot water beating against her tired body, Hermione let go of her anger, knowing it would only exhaust her later if she held onto it. And, she would probably end up with a pounding headache. She carefully scrubbed her body, not wanting to rub the sand stuck to her skin too much. Luckily, it all came off relatively easily. Washing her hair was a whole other matter, though. Using the shampoo and conditioner Nadine had given her, Hermione had to wash her hair multiple times before she felt that all the dirt and grime was gone.

She ignored the knocking on the door, almost done with her shower. A minute or so later, she shut the water off and wrapped the towel around her body. When she opened the door to Narcissa Malfoy, she could only wonder what needed to be said this very minute.

"How are you, Miss Granger?" Narcissa smiled, if a bit nervously.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Malfoy, and yourself?" Hermione replied slowly, unsure what was going on.

"Fine, just fine dear." She cleared her throat. "I'll let you get dressed, but I would like to speak with you." She walked into the master bedroom and closed the door. Hermione stood there for a few seconds before shaking her head and going back into the bathroom.

When she was dried off and fully clothed, Hermione towel dried her hair as best she could before walking cautiously to the master bedroom. She knocked on the door, feeling for a moment like she was knocking on the Headmaster's door after she, Harry, and Ron had been caught doing something against school rules. The feeling in the pit of her stomach didn't go away when the female voice inside told her to enter.

"You wanted to speak with me?" she asked, shutting the door. She didn't want to sit down, afraid she would be acting too informal for this woman.

"Come, sit here by me." Narcissa patted the bed beside her. When Hermione was seated next to her, the older witch folded her hands in her lap. "It has come to my attention that my son and you are not getting along."

Hermione blushed and looked at her hands. "I guess it's too hard to let old habits die." She looked up at the calm, regal woman sitting there. "He's been terrorizing me since we were eleven years old. Eight years of acting one way towards each other isn't going to change in a single day, even after three years."

"I understand. I have spoken to my son and informed him that this kind of behavior is unacceptable. You two are adults now, and as such, you need to stop acting like children and put this animosity behind you." She made it sound so easy.

Hermione wished it was that simple. Her war with Draco Malfoy had tired her out, as it had in school. After their verbal battles, she would always leave feeling bad about herself. No matter how good she had gotten at hiding her feelings from him, his biting words always hit their mark. She didn't think he even realized how much his words affected her, and if he did, well… at this point, he was just twisting the knife.

"Now, I won't say you two must instantly become the best of friends, but I would like a bit more civility between you. I know you are a usually very civil, polite young woman, and I would like to say that my son can portray that level of civility as well. However, whatever it is that has wormed its way into your hearts has made me think otherwise, about the _both_ of you.

"When the Dark Lord came and made our manor his headquarters, Draco did what was expected of him, only because he had to. I know you think that we were a part of the Second Wizarding War, but once Lord Vol— He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named made Draco a… a Death Eater…" She stopped. Hermione could see that this was not something she liked remembering. "Draco got it into his mind that he had to protect us, when _he_ was the one who needed all the help he could get. Severus did all he could, but as a spy, there was only so much he could do to protect my son. Killing Dumbledore was an awful thing to make a young boy do, but _He_ didn't care about what it would do to Draco, or if my son would even survive the encounter."

"Harry told me about what happened that day in the Astronomy Tower," Hermione said quietly, remembering how mad she'd been at both Draco and Snape for taking Professor Dumbledore's life. Only after she'd heard about what Harry had seen in Severus' memories did Hermione believe that Professor Snape had been on their side, and that was when she forgave him. She finally understood the strained relationship between Harry and Snape…

Malfoy, on the other hand, she never forgave for his actions. She had put reason at the back of her mind and simply led her hate on with half-truths. She knew that he had only done what he did during the War because he had to in order to protect his family. She knew that if he didn't do _everything_ the Dark Lord said, he and his parents would be killed. She also knew that she was one of hundreds who blamed him for a lot of the things he'd had no control over.

"I just want you to understand what Draco was going through during that dark period in all our lives. I had heard that you, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Potter were the ones destroying the Dark Lords' Horcruxes, but until that day at our manor, when the three of you were brought prisoner to stand before us, I hadn't believed that a trio of _children_ could be doing what adults had been attempting for years."

Hermione remembered _that_ day all too well… Being dragged before the Malfoy's and Bellatrix Lestrange, Harry's face bloated and distorted from a hex she'd sent at him before they'd been caught. His aunt had ordered Draco to inspect them to see if it was indeed Harry Potter. Harry had later said that he was sure Draco had known it was him when their eyes met. When Harry and Ron had been sent down to the dungeons, Hermione had feared that Bellatrix would kill her. Instead, in front of the Snatchers and the Malfoy family, she had been 'Crucioed' and had the word 'Mudblood' inscribed into her arm with Bellatrix's knife.

Hermione didn't realize that she was rubbing the spot on her wrist where Bellatrix had marked her. As if she knew what Hermione was seeing in her minds' eye, Narcissa Malfoy put a hand on the girls' arm, making her jump. "I am truly sorry that we did nothing to help you from my sadistic sister… There was nothing we could have done that would not have ended in _all_ of our deaths then and there." She looked so sympathetic and guilty that Hermione believed her instantly.

"I know that now… It seems that there are things I believed to be rock solid, that they would never change. A lot of my beliefs have been thrown up into the air and shot to pieces since the War ended." She met Narcissas' eyes. "I believed you and your family were dark, hateful people, and that I couldn't stand being anywhere near you."

After a pregnant pause, "And now?" Narcissa looked unconcerned for the answer, for she looked at Hermione with no emotion at all.

"I… I'm not sure anymore," Hermione admitted slowly. The older witch nodded.

"As long as there's a shred of hope, I will patiently wait."

"Would you like me to go make dinner, Mrs. Malfoy?" Hermione asked, grasping at an excuse to get out of this room and end this uncomfortable conversation.

"That would be very kind of you, dear." Hermione rose and opened the door. "And Hermione, Mrs. Malfoy is my mother-in-law. You may call me Narcissa." She nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her.

The walk to the kitchen was a blur as she thought about what Narcissa had said. '_Draco got it into his mind that he had to protect us, when he was the one who needed all the help he could get_,' she had said. Hermione had noticed the way Malfoy had seemed to be wasting away their sixth year, growing thinner and paler with each passing week. She hadn't given it a second thought after everything had happened over the next year. After all his bragging, Hermione hadn't believed that Malfoy hadn't liked his status as a Death Eater.

But now, she knew better. She had people on both sides of the War saying that the Malfoys hated their part in Voldemort's plans. Malfoy especially despised what he had to do for the Dark Lord. Hermione hadn't wanted to believe it, because it gave her someone to blame for all the bad things that had happened to her and the people she loved.

She was silent as she rummaged through the pantry and refrigerator for something to make. After much deliberation, she decided to cook the chicken breasts in the freezer and use the leftover sauce from pasta the night before to make chicken parmesan. It took her almost an hour, but she was able to whip together chicken parmesan for four. She brought out the wine bottle from the previous dinner and set three glasses on the table. Tonight, she _definitely_ needed a beer.

Hermione set the table, putting an equal portion of chicken on each plate, topping it with sauce and melted cheese. The sauce had sausages and peppers in it, giving the chicken extra flavoring. She sprinkled some spices on top, stood back and surveyed her work, and then deemed it ready. She didn't wait for the others to join her before bringing her plate and beer to the coffee table in the living room. After her last spat with Malfoy, she thought it would be best to take herself out of the equation and prevent another altercation.

"Dinner's on the table," she said to the closed door, leaving when Lucius affirmed that he'd heard. She repeated the message to Malfoy, though it was a simple, sharp "dinner" as she passed his room. She didn't hear anything from inside the snake's newest lair, but she wasn't too concerned. One of his parents would retrieve him if he didn't come out soon.

Dinner was the same as last night. Narcissa came in and asked her if she would join them, and Hermione politely declined. Draco didn't make a fuss this time, and neither did Lucius. In fact, the whole house was silent except for the small _clinking_ the silverware made against the ceramic plates. Hermione finished her beer and braved the walk past the family to get another one. Her six-pack was half gone. She would have to buy more tomorrow.

Draco approached her later that night, as everyone was settling down to sleep. Not wanting to be sitting while he stood over her, Hermione planted her feet in front of him, arms crossed. They both stood their ground, appraising the other a few feet away.

"Do you need something, or can I get some rest now?" she asked, trying not to sound _too_ rude.

"I had a very interesting chat with Mother earlier tonight," he said, ignoring her question. She didn't say anything, knowing if she interrupted that he wouldn't continue with what might turn out to be an apology. She doubted it, but she didn't want to ruin the chances either way.

"It seems that she disapproves of the way we treat each other." He smirked at that. "I told her that was how you and I have interacted since we first met. With hostility, mistrust, and animosity. She thought that we could change all that, despite our colorful background, and become civil with each other." The way he smirked again made Hermione think that this wasn't going to turn into an apology.

"She's good for him," Narcissa said to her husband while they lay in bed. Lucius looked over at his wife, confused and a bit astonished. "He tires of those tarts who throw themselves at him, you know. Every time he would come home with one of those girls, he wouldn't introduce them until _after_ they'd spent their time in his rooms. And then, only half of them would make the cut and stay the night."

"I was only introduced to a few girls, Cissy. The boy is young; he'll grow into the art of seduction."

"You saw a few because the others were introduced to _me_ first, and I sent them home. Draco doesn't need that kind of trash getting half of whatever he owns." Husband and wife looked at each other. "And it isn't seduction I'm worried about, Lucius. Your son knows how to seduce a woman out of her life savings. It's love I'm worried he'll never find, at the rate he's going."

"And what, you expect the Mud—." He stopped at the look on his wife's face. "You expect Miss Granger to set him straight?" Lucius sighed. "What do you want from the girl, Cissy? Do you want her and Draco to set aside a decade of differences and fall in love? Is that what you're hoping for?"

"Not necessarily. I don't know what we would do if the two fell in love… they're from two completely different worlds, dear. They were brought up two different ways. He was taught his entire life to hate her kind, and she was taught to fear ours. There's no telling what could happen with the two of them cooped up in such close proximity for a lengthy amount of time."

"You _want_ them to do… something, don't you?" her husband accused her. In his mind, Lucius was cringing at the thought of his boy and the Muggle-born witch being anything more than acquaintances. But to her face, Lucius allowed his wife to have her fantasy, knowing it would never play out the way she wanted it to. There was just too much between the two. He was Slytherin's Prince, she Gryffindor's Princess; both 'royalty' in their own rights, but neither on the other's level in any aspect of the word.

"You watch," Narcissa said with a small smile. "Just watch them. _Something_ is going to happen, and hopefully, soon. Much more of this fighting and I'll start going gray."

"Never," Lucius assured her, kissing the top of his wife's head before lying back down and closing his eyes in sleep.

Little did the adults know, the two would come to a very finalizing dispute. At the exact moment Narcissa was attempting to convince her husband that their son and the young woman protecting them all would have an exchange, they did in fact have a few words with each other. They just weren't the words the older witch was hoping for.

"Look Granger, don't blame me. It's not _my_ fault you're a filthy Mudblood," Draco hissed, his face inches from her own. She glared right back up at him, her hands in fists at her side. She was positively _itching_ to punch him in his smug mouth.

"Don't blame _me_," she began, throwing his words in his face. "It's not _my_ fault my family isn't comprised of Pureblooded, prejudiced, egotistical—"

He backhanded her across the face. Sprawled on the floor, her right cheek on fire, Hermione glared up at him. She pushed the tears away, not wanting him to see her cry after having stood up to him already this day. He looked down at her, silent, stony as ever.

Whipping out her wand, the young witch rose slowly, her blazing brown eyes never leaving his steely ones. "I'm not one of those pansy-ass bints you usually surround yourself with _Malfoy_. I _will_ hit you back. If you _ever_ lay even a _finger_ on my person again, I'll kill you," she promised, her tone making it clear that she was completely serious.

Hermione grabbed her beaded bag off the nearby cot and strode to the room Malfoy had deemed 'his' the day before. She flung open the door and snatched his duffel off the floor. He hadn't bothered unpacking anything, so she simply threw the bag at him before standing in the doorway.

"I'm taking the bed. I'm locking the door. If you so much as _think_ about trying to get in, I will hex you so many different ways to Sunday it'll make your big head spin." She slammed the door and turned the lock on the doorknob.

As soon as the lock was set, Hermione sagged against the door. She pressed her aching jaw against the cool of the wood and groaned. Usually, a quick flick of her wand and she would be right as rain. But they were in hiding, and therefore couldn't use magic… She would just have to grit her teeth and ride this one out.

Hermione took a disposable ice pack out of her bag. She had prepared for this sort of thing, knowing that magic would be unavailable to them for an unknown period of time. She just hadn't known that she would need it _because_ of her charges. Cracking the pack in half, she shook it until it turned cold. Wrapping the ice pack in a hand towel, she put it against her skin, covering the entire right side of her face. It was numb not too long after.

Lying gingerly in the large bed, trying not to jostle the ice pack too much, Hermione attempted to fall asleep. A few minutes passed before she realized that she was burrowing her face into the white pillow, enveloping herself in the now-familiar scent. Malfoy reminded her of nature. He smelled of sandalwood, fresh air, and a bit of lemon. It made her sleepy, actually. Deciding to just go with it, Hermione flipped onto her left side and let the ice pack rest on her cheek and jaw while she drifted off to sleep, feeling like she was surrounded by a dark forest.

After that first very awkward morning when Hermione realized she would have a bruise on her jaw, everything was fine. She stayed in _her_ room, bringing the food to the living room as before. No one came to ask her if she would like to join them in the kitchen. While she cooked lunch and dinner, Malfoy would stay in either the living room or the master bedroom, talking with his parents. Hermione didn't really care where he was, as long as it was nowhere near her.

Sure, she'd been hit before. After all, she'd fought in a war. But never, in her entire life, had Hermione been hit like _that_. That had been… callous. She thought it fitting, actually. He was so cold hearted that he wasn't below smacking girls around. A snake, through and through. None of the Malfoys had commented on the now-purpled bruise marring the right side of her face, an imprint of his ring clear on her cheekbone, though she'd seen Narcissa looking at her with something akin to pity. And was that anger she saw Lucius directing at his son? No, she must be mistaken. Because surely, any _true_ Pureblood father would have no qualms with his son putting a 'filthy Mudblood' in her place.

A week passed. And then another, before she got word of any changes to come. It was the seventeenth day she'd been stuck in this hell-hole with the King of Gits and his parents, and she was ready to hex someone. She and Malfoy had been avoiding each other, and whereas at first it was an outright thing, where he would leave the room if she entered, now they had grown slicker at staying away from each other. They both convinced themselves that it was to keep Narcissa from feeling uncomfortable, but the truth was, they had just gotten used to ignoring each other and not crossing paths in the small house.

_How goes it?_ Hermione looked at the small coin in disgust. What could she possibly say that wouldn't be a complete lie? Holding the knut in her palm, she thought, _it's fine,_ until the message appeared on the rim of the coin. She only waited a few minutes before receiving a response from the London end.

_Are you ready to kill someone? –Harry_. Hermione smiled at that. Even during work, and continents apart, Harry still made her laugh. A good friend, that.

_Yes._ She didn't want to go too deeply into the conflict, afraid that it would affect the way Proudfoot thought of her abilities to be on high-profile missions like this one.

_We're having some problems on our end. Whatever happens, DO NOT bring them to Europe. It isn't safe for any of you. -P_

Well _that_ was ominous… Hermione reread the message from Proudfoot a few more times, trying to figure out what he could mean. If they were having issues, wouldn't they _want_ her back there to fight beside them? Everyone there knew by now that she was a vicious fighter when it came down to it. During the War, she'd been a bit squeamish at first of using bad hexes and curses. But after a particularly nasty run-in with some Snatchers, she'd gotten over the sick feeling in her stomach and shot a 'Sectumsempra' at the man chasing her. He'd dropped to the forest floor and writhed in pain as his life blood left him through the multiple large lacerations covering his chest. After that, Hermione had decided it was best to just do what she had to, bugger the consequences.

If it were up to her, she would be contacting the AAA today and dumping the 'Malfoy problem' as she'd come to think of it, on them. She would rejoin her friends in London and fight with them, as was right. But, Proudfoot apparently had other ideas about where her talents would be best put to use. So, just like she had been doing for the past two weeks, she would have to just stick it out and hope that the Order would come to take them to London _before_ she and Malfoy did something that would get them in trouble.

"Mother, I really doubt it's going to make a difference," Draco said, frowning. He'd been trying to get his mother off of this path all day. She wanted him and Granger to _reconcile their differences_; as if that would happen.

"Dear, I don't think you're looking at the big picture," Narcissa said, her tone clipped. Draco had been ambushed by his mother and father after they saw Granger's face the morning after he… well, after he hit her. Neither had been pleased, to put it mildly. Narcissa had been furious that he would turn an apology into another fight, and that he had stooped so low as to actually lay a hand on her in violence. His father had been disappointed in his lack of control and the way he had handled the situation. They were both talking to him, but without the usual familiarity and warmth. That was still much more than he could say for Granger.

He hadn't spoken a single word to the witch since that night. He had to leave the room if she walked in, saving them both from increasingly awkward situations. He knew that an apology wouldn't get him back in the fiery young witch's good graces, or wherever he'd been before this little incident, but it would certainly be a start, as his mother had pointed out.

"Mother, how am I even going to get close enough to talk to her?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Draco was cringing at the thought of actually saying _sorry_ to Granger, but if it got his parents off his back, then so be it.

"Don't leave the kitchen when she comes in to prepare dinner," Narcissa responded, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

"Knowing Granger, she'll probably just leave us all to starve if I do that." And he wouldn't go hungry just because she was having her time of the month for two weeks. No, he would just write to her and hope she didn't rip it up and ignore his apology.

So, pen and paper in hand, Draco went to the cot that was now is room and wrote the Muggle-born an apology. It took him over an hour to think of something acceptable. And, he had to keep getting new sheets of paper, reminding himself that putting snarky comments into an atonement letter would only make his situation worse. Finally, he was done. Holding up the paper, he reread it just to make sure his hand hadn't put anything extra in when he wasn't paying attention. Force of habit and all.

_Granger, _

_ It has come to my attention that the condition of our strained relationship with each other has made my mother increasingly uncomfortable. She wishes that we would put our past behind us and start anew. I however, and I am sure you feel the same, know that we cannot do that. Since there is just too much in our history, there is no conceivable way to put everything behind us and become friends._

_ Therefore, I would like to simply apologize for my behavior since we have been thrown together once again. It was uncalled for and completely inappropriate, I know that now. I also know that this letter will not do much to repair what has happened between us, but I hope that it's a start in the right direction. I do not like this awkward situation we have found ourselves in. Furthermore, I fear that our animosity will prevent the protection of my family from being complete and on target._

_D.M._

Yes, that would do. Most of it was just nonsense he had pulled out of his arse. But his concern for his family was real. If this _thing_ between him and Granger got his mother or father hurt, he would personally send an Avada at her heart. The Malfoy family was her charge, and if her stubbornness and unprofessional attitude kept her from doing her job correctly, then this would be the last assignment Hermione Granger would ever do with _any_ Auror's Office.

Folding the paper in half, he walked to _his_ room and slid the note under the closed door. He waited until he heard movement from inside before leaving her to it. There was no telling what that bloody psychopath would do when she read his letter. She could accept it fully and apologize to him for her horrid behavior. Or, she could rip it to shreds and continue ignoring him, like a child. The Granger he remembered from school was a very predictable person. She was a girl of highs and lows. He could recall that she had always been either noticeably happy, or obviously distressed. Draco could not remember a single time where Granger had been able to hide what she was feeling at any point in her life at school. She was a Gryffindor; they wore their hearts on their sleeves and their emotions written across their foreheads.

When she found him, he was in the kitchen, drinking some of the coffee she had made a little while ago. She'd shown them all how to use the appliances in the kitchen, so he'd poured some of the coffee into a mug and nuked it in the microwave.

He didn't say anything when she entered, his letter in her hand. She stood in front of him, her arms crossed, and he just leaned against the counter, sipping the black liquid calmly. He hoped she wouldn't punch him like she had their third year; the coffee was really hot and he didn't want to spill it all over himself, effectively ruining his clothes.

"I read your letter," she said finally, after they'd both sized the other up, trying to glean what the other was thinking. "And I agree." Well, that was to be expected. He was, after all, quite a smart bloke. People tended to agree with what he had to say.

"The safety of your parents is more important than our ongoing fight." See? Maybe Granger really had earned the label 'smartest witch of her age'. "I will do everything in my power to keep them from harm. _You_, on the other hand, are on your own." And then again, maybe she wasn't that smart. "You're a smart boy, you'll figure something out."

She watched him for a moment, gauging his reaction. She shouldn't have bothered, Draco would give nothing away. He, in turn, was studying her face, searching for the telltale signs of her Gryffindor upbringing. Strangely, he found none. She was unusually calm and detached as she told him that she was no longer responsible for him. After she walked away, Draco smirked. That had been very… Slytherin of her. He, the Slytherin Prince, hadn't been able to read a single one of her emotions, from her face, body language, or normally-expressive mocha eyes.

Underneath, he knew that this Granger was the same feisty firebrand that she'd been back at Hogwarts. But now she had another side to her. She was aloof, calm, and surprisingly detached for a Gryffindor. Draco thought about what he'd said to her that day after their haircuts.

_"Granger, if I didn't know any better, I would think you had been sorted in Slytherin. Take away all that 'heart on your sleeve' nonsense, and you would have made a very good Snake." _

Well, it seemed she'd done just that. She was becoming less and less Gryffindor's Princess every day. And every subtle change was bringing her closer to becoming the one and only Slytherin Princess in his mind. Draco grinned, liking the sound of that. Slytherin's Princess… it would prove to be a challenge, converting her completely. He loved taking on challenges. _Especially_ when they had to do with Potter and the Weasel getting the short-end of a stick. He liked the new Granger, yes indeed.

Days went by before Hermione heard anything from the Ministry. She had been checking every few hours, wondering what the Minister and Proudfoot were keeping from her. If there was a problem, and one of her friends was in danger, Hermione _needed_ to be there. She hadn't survived the War just to lose a friend to some attack she knew nothing about.

Since confronting, no _telling_, Draco her feelings about the letter he'd written, the two had gone right back to ignoring each other. She kept her word, watching carefully and keeping her eyes and ears open when they left the house every other day for food and such. But if Draco decided to go off on his own for some reason or other, Hermione didn't keep tabs on him like she had previously. She knew in her mind that Proudfoot would fire her if he found out about the way she was handling this, but Hermione could care less at this point. He had laid a hand on her in violence, and after what she'd gone through in the War, she would _never_ let another man touch her like that.

Narcissa and Lucius made an effort to make the tension between the two young adults less noticeable, but it didn't help much. Hermione continued putting Malfoy on the edges of her radar, knowing where he was at all times, but not doing much else. If trouble came along, well, he was capable of holding his own until his parents could get there. She thought she had made herself very clear; if his parents wanted to help him get out of trouble by fighting alongside him, then Hermione would fight too, but only for Lucius and Narcissas' sakes. She tried to convince herself that if Draco died in a scrap out here, she wouldn't care. But Hermione knew she would. No matter how Draco Malfoy had hurt her, Hermione Granger would _not_ let him die. She would only let him _think_ she would; he seemed to find the 'New Hermione' intriguing enough to take her seriously.


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry it took so long to update! But I just couldn't seem to end this chapter, so here ya go! Don't forget to review!**

"Miss Granger." Hermione looked over her shoulder at Lucius Malfoy, her charge for the present time. He was following her lead through the busy streets of Las Vegas, Nevada as they made their way to the spot she had designated as the Apparition site; a dark, abandoned alleyway. She had asked him many times to walk closer to her, so that she could keep a better watch, but after the fight between her and Draco, Lucius had adamantly refused to make it known that they were associated with each other in public. Even after she had taken the time to make herself _look_ like a part of their family, the Malfoy men expressed no interest in making her feel comfortable.

Narcissa tried her best to make Hermione as welcome as she could in their little safe-house, thousands of miles and a continent away from their homes, but there was only so much she could do to overturn the way she felt around Draco and his aristocratic father. Both men did their absolute best to keep as far away from her as the small building would allow.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?" She refrained from sighing out loud, knowing it would only incense the man. She wasn't in the mood to deal with whatever mood Malfoy Sr. decided he was in.

"Apologize to my son." He didn't say it as a request, which surprised and angered Hermione to no end. Whirling around to face the tall man, she glared up into his slate gray eyes, eyes that were the same color as his horrid sons'.

"_Excuse me_? You want _me_ to apologize to _him_?" She was dumbstruck. Never in her life had she encountered one as self-centered and egotistical as Draco Malfoy, and now she knew where he'd inherited that _lovely_ trait.

He nodded as if it were the most obvious choice for her to make. "Your manners and way of living are enough to deal with, putting your obvious lack of social skills aside, without having to deal with this childish act you are putting on."

"_He_ _hit_ _me_," she snarled, not caring who heard her. The people that walked by the two didn't seem to care what 'father and daughter' were arguing about, and for that she was a little grateful. In London, people would have stopped to watch by now. Luckily, stranger things happened in Las Vegas every day.

"I don't care who hit whom. You should apologize to Draco; it's only fair." He shrugged his suit-clad shoulders as if his proposition made total sense.

"It's only _fair_? Since when is life _fair_? And since when do _you_ get to tell me what is fair and what is not?" Lucius and Hermione stared each other down, neither breaking eye contact until a passerby bumped Hermione's shoulder as he strode down the sidewalk. She looked at the man as he continued on, not noticing in her angry haze that there was so much room on either side of them that there was no need for that man to have touched her.

"Alright, if not to be fair, then to simply even the score. Draco has given you an apology, so you should return the gesture, as is only polite." Hermione wondered where this man could have gotten the idea that apologizing for something she didn't do was the best route to take. "And besides, you're a big girl; that little tap could not have possibly hurt that much. You were in the thick of the War, if I understand correctly. I know of several instances where you and your two friends were attacked." He began to list off the attacks he knew about, ignoring the way Hermiones' face paled considerably, and the way her hands began to shake at her sides.

"The Battle at the Ministry," he said, ticking the events off on his fingers. "In the Forest of Dean, Godric's Hollow, the Manor." He went on to name several more times where she had been beaten and severely injured, times she hadn't thought he would know about. He didn't seem to realize that being injured in battle was _not_ the same as being abused by someone you lived in the same house with.

"Don't forget the time in Edinburgh," she spat when he didn't name one of the most memorable run-ins with Death Eaters. "I met your brother-in-law and his deranged sibling. They were _very_ hospitable, showing me around the inside of the broken-down mansion they were inhabiting. I had a _lovely_ time, being chained to a dirty, slimy wall. You would be surprised at the many ways a person can twist and turn when their arms are held above them. I thought for sure I'd thrown my spine out of alignment the first time they came for me." She knew that her sarcasm was biting and unnecessary, but she just couldn't help herself. With each passing word, the carefully built wall around herself was being picked at and chipped, and Lucius had yet to say a word.

"Your brother-in-law is a big man, taller than you even and much broader in the chest. Him and his brother, wands in hand, against a defenseless witch worked out _real_ well for me. I thought they would just torture me; you know, Crucio me some more, smack me around until I told them where Harry and Ron were hiding." She couldn't stop. The words were pouring from her mouth, and she was ignoring the voice in her head that told her to shut up before she said something that she would later regret. "Sure, I cried when they Crucioed me and when they would come and beat me until I blacked out. But I didn't cry _once_ when they raped me. Not even a _single_ tear. I was either all cried out by then, after the beatings, or I was just too numb to do anything but hang there against the wall."

Hermione snapped her mouth shut, her teeth clicking in the sudden silence that surrounded the two. Her hands were positively shaking as she hugged her middle. No tears came from her haunted eyes, but she was sure that she looked a right horrid sight even without them. Hermione didn't know what to think; she had just shown her charge that she was weak, that she was emotional on duty. The voice in the back of her mind screamed at her that she had bigger problems than showing the chinks in her armor; now, Lucius Malfoy _knew_.

"Interesting," was all he murmured, his silver eyes appraising her as she tried to hold herself together on the sidewalk. She whipped her eyes to meet his, and instantly wished she hadn't; his gaze was as hard and emotionless as usual, his face showing nothing. And it was infuriating. She wanted _some_ sort of emotion from him. She would even accept a smirk, if it would prove that Lucius Malfoy was capable of showing emotions in front of people outside his family. She was unsure as to why it was so important that he give her _something_.

They were at the mouth of the alley, and Hermione wasted no more time in getting back to the safe-house. She strode behind a nearby dumpster and took ahold of Lucius' sleeve before Apparating. She had advised that they all set the landing site as right in front of the door, so the dust on the walkway kicked up when they arrived in a whirl. Lucius waited no time in opening the front door and walking inside, leaving Hermione to lean against the side of the house, eyes closed, as she steeled herself against the overwhelming feelings.

"Where is Hermione?" Narcissa asked when her husband traipsed in, their caretaker not in sight. Lucius didn't say a word; he just took her arm in a tight grip and practically dragged his wife to the master bedroom. "Lucius, what's going on? What happened?"

"I'm going to kill them," he said quietly, in a voice she recognized well. In all the years she had been married to this man, she had only ever heard this level of fury a handful of times before.

"Whom, dear? What happened?" she asked again when he didn't answer her the first time. She sat on the foot of the bed, nervous as he paced. "What has you so upset?"

"Rodolphus and Rabastan," he ground out, his tone so sharp she might have flinched had it been anyone else.

"They're dead, are they not? What could they have done now to rile you up like this?" Narcissa still didn't understand why Lucius was so angry; he was still pacing, and he was telling her nothing.

He stopped in front of his wife and relayed the short tale Hermione had told him a few minutes previous, his voice low. Her hand flew to her mouth, her brown eyes wide as she took in the horrible news. She had come to like the girl sent to protect them, even if the two former schoolmates didn't get along. Hermione was sharp and quick-witted, a trait Narcissa admired. Her heart went out to the young woman who had faced horrors even she couldn't imagine.

Draco looked up from his seat on the sofa when his father practically stormed into the room, his normally stoic face twisted into a terrible snarl. Dropping the magazine he was reading, Draco rose swiftly, about to go to his father when he heard his mother ask where the Muggle-born witch was. He glanced over his shoulder at the open front door, pushing back the uneasiness that the night gave him. He wanted to hear what his father was telling Narcissa, and he was about to walk to their room to sit in and listen, but Hermione stepped in, stopping him in his tracks.

Her expression was calm, unemotional. It might have fooled Draco, had he not been searching for something wrong. He saw it in her eyes; there was something _very_ wrong with Granger, and she was trying desperately to hide it from him as she walked past to her room. He followed, not liking the way her usually bright mocha eyes looked a dead brown, glazed and haunted.

He stood in the doorway as she slowly took her jacket off, noticing the way her entire body was shaking, making it difficult to work the zipper. She tossed it on the floor instead of hanging it on the edge of the dresser like she normally would, proving to Draco that something was _definitely_ wrong with Gryffindor's Princess. He spoke up when he noticed the tattoo on her right hip after she lifted the white top over her head.

"Why do you have a dove tattooed on your hip?" She jumped back almost a foot, turning to face him, her eyes wild and her expression terrified. When her still-glazed eyes realized it was only him and not whatever horror she was seeing in her mind, Hermione relaxed noticeably. She didn't give him an answer, so Draco tried a different approach. "What has you so freaked out, Granger? Did something happen in town?"

She continued to simply stand there, staring at him, but not _at_ him; she was watching something else unfold in her head. And from the way she began to shake again, Draco figured it wasn't a good memory. It was only when she sank to the floor, her back against the wall that he stepped into the room.

Malfoy crouched in front of her, his eyes level with hers as he examined her face for some clues as to what had her so scared. She wouldn't meet his gaze; her own eyes were firmly locked on the ground between her feet.

"Granger, look at me," he commanded, not liking the unresponsive way she was acting. He told her to look at him a few more times before gripping her chin in his right hand and forcing her to meet his stare. She shrank back from him, ripping her face from his grasp and trying to back further into the wall. He reached for her again and she actually _whimpered_. That stopped him cold.

"I'm not going to touch you, Granger," he assured her as he sat on the floor a foot away. He held both hands up in front of him, palms facing her to show he meant no harm. Hermione didn't look at him again, her eyes darting around the room to everything _but_ him. She scooted to the corner to his right, keeping her back to the wall. He had become so used to the new, detached Hermione, that this woman before him was confusing and frightening.

"Draco." He turned at his mother's soft voice coming from the open doorway. She glanced quickly between him and the witch huddled in the corner before beckoning him to her. Standing slowly, Draco took one last look at Hermione sitting in the corner, her arms wrapped around her knees, before walking with his mother to her room next door.

"Mother, what's going on? Father looked _furious_ when he returned and Granger is freaking out." Narcissa shut the door and pulled him to sit with her on the bed.

"Your father and Miss Granger got into a bit of a spat while in town, and a few things came to light about Hermione's… injuries during the War." She looked nervous as she spoke, and Draco almost didn't want to hear whatever it was she had to say. He almost didn't want to know what was going on with the witch in the other room.

"Is this something she would tell me, if she were able, right now?" he asked suddenly, cutting Narcissa off before she could say anything more. His mother slowly shook her head. Draco's jaw tightened and he stood. "I don't want to hear it. If Granger won't tell me whatever secret you are about to expose, then I certainly don't wish to hear it from you."

"Draco, wait!" He didn't stop when his mother called to him. His long legs brought him swiftly back to Granger's side. She hadn't moved since he had left.

"Granger," he said softly. He knew that this was none of his business; if she wanted to wallow in past misery, then who was he to stop her? But for some reason, knowing that she was here to protect them, he felt that he should try to do the same. For some unknown, unfathomable reason, Draco Malfoy wanted to help Hermione Granger overcome her fears.

She finally looked up at him when he whispered her name, her _given_ name. Her eyes were dry, but Draco figured she had simply cried herself out over this matter, whatever it would turn out to be. He was kneeling a foot or so from her, so when she lifted her head and met his eyes, their faces weren't too far apart. Even through the unease he felt that came with trying to comfort her, Draco felt the small, quick pang of disgust that came over him when he was this close to Granger, as it had been since school, but the terrified look on her face dimmed the feeling until it was merely a prickling in the back of his mind.

"Help me," she rasped, her voice tight and emotional. The disgust he felt melted entirely away and suddenly he felt nothing but the need to comfort her. He had never had anyone ask _him_ for help before, and it was a heady thing that it came from this girl, the one he had tortured emotionally since they were eleven.

She dragged herself across the small expanse of rug that lay in between them. He sat cross-legged and pulled her into his arms, ignoring the voices in his head reminding him that she was getting her filth all over him. She sat sideways in his lap, her arms around his neck and her face buried in his right shoulder. He used one hand on her back to hold her up, while the other ran down her blonde locks, smoothing them. It was weird, having Hermione Granger in his arms.

"Bring her in here," his mother said from the doorway. He looked over his shoulder at her, silently asking Narcissa to assist him. He didn't want to try and stand with her in his arms; he might drop her. The older woman hurried to her sons' side and pulled Hermione out of his embrace, enfolding the girl in her own arms while Draco stood. He reached down and picked her up, one arm under her legs, the other behind her back. She wrapped her arms around him again and leaned her head wearily against his shoulder.

"I'll stay with her tonight, so she won't be alone in this state," Narcissa said quietly while Draco gently laid Hermione in his parents' bed. His mother gave him a quick hug when he straightened, surprising him. "Thank you for helping her." Draco just nodded and planted a quick kiss on her cheek.

He waited while his mother lay beside Granger, pulling the younger woman up against her body. Hermione turned into Narcissas' embrace, ducking her head into the other woman's neck. His mother rubbed her hand in a comforting circle over Hermiones' back, murmuring soothing words. Draco pulled the blanket up over the two women and turned the lamp off before leaving the room.

He found his father in the kitchen, one of Hermione's beers in hand. Looking at the counter beside Lucius, Draco realized his father was already on his second drink, if the empty beer bottle on the counter told him anything. Going into the refrigerator, Draco reached for two more beers and brought them over to his father. Lucius drained the small amount left in the bottle in his hand and reached for a third. Handing it to him, Draco popped open his own and took a long swig.

"I told her to apologize to you," Lucius said after they had finished another round of beers. Draco looked sideways at his father, not quite understanding what he was talking about. "I _ordered_ Miss Granger to apologize to you. I told her it was only fair, and she asked me why I thought the world was a fair place." He smirked wryly. "She told me that there was no reason for her to apologize to you, and I responded with 'I'm sure you went through worse in the War.'" Draco's jaw almost dropped. His father had compared his momentary lapse in judgment to something Granger had endured during the _War_?

"You couldn't have known it would create this sort of reaction," Draco muttered, turning back to his drink. He'd never particularly cared for beer, but since there wasn't anything stronger, it would have to do for now.

"I felt so much anger when she told me what happened in Edinburgh… The last time I felt like that, my family was in danger of being killed because of my mistakes." Lucius trailed off, retreating into his own thoughts. Draco waited for him to speak again, wondering what had happened in Edinburgh, Scotland, to make the bravest witch of their age crumble into a weak, fragile person.

"She's with mother, sleeping," Draco said at last. He could feel the beers working their way through his system.

"I will sleep on the cot in the living room," Lucius replied after a moment, surprising his son, who had assumed Lucius would take the open bedroom.

"Are you sure? I don't mind sleeping on the cot," Draco said, though he secretly hoped Lucius would refuse. He despised that little thing Granger called a bed. Maybe for a house elf or someone else equally small, but not a man pushing 6'4". Lucius shook his head and took his half-full beer bottle to the bed Draco had been using for the past month.

Slytherin's Prince took what remained of his fifth beer to the small bedroom, grabbing his pajama pants from the cot first. His father had already taken his silk pajamas from the master bedroom where Narcissa and Granger slept soundly in each other's arms. Draco checked in on the two women and, seeing that both were safe and asleep, went to find his own relaxation through the journey the sandman would take him on.

Pulling back the white sheets, he lay down and was enveloped in the sweet tang of apples and the softer smell of vanilla and jasmine. It smelled like Granger. When he'd held her in his arms, her hair had smelled of apples. The different smells made him sleepy as he settled into the pile of pillows Granger had taken from the linen closet down the hall. So many pillows made him think of having people sleeping beside him. In his hazy, alcohol controlled mind, Draco imagined that it was Granger in the big bed beside him, her scent wrapping him in a soft, safe blanket.

Draco Malfoy fell into a deep sleep with the imaginary Hermione wrapped in his arms. In the morning, he would wake to find himself clutching a pillow to his chest, his face pressed into it.

Hermione woke up with one arm under her head, the other draped across what felt like another person. Her mind registered this fact with a hint of fear as she bolted upright. Her head began to spin, and Hermione had to close her eyes against the feeling that the room was moving around her. She felt hung-over, yet she didn't _remember_ drinking any alcohol the previous night…

After a moment, she was able to open her eyes once more. Looking to her right, she was startled to see Narcissa Malfoy curled up on her side, facing Hermione. The woman looked so peaceful and serene that Hermione took extra care getting out of the bed, unwilling to wake the Malfoy who had calmed her in a time of need.

That thought brought the memories from last night flooding back. Hermione instantly remembered the argument with Lucius in town, and coming home a tangled mess of distraught emotions. She recalled the embarrassing way she had broken down in front of Draco Malfoy, of all people. Not that it would change much about the way he viewed her, but Hermione _wished_ the horrors from the War had not come over her where Malfoy could observe.

She vaguely remembered being carried from her room into this room, and placed in the bed. Short blonde hair beside her face… it _had_ to have been Draco. Oh, this was just getting better and better, wasn't it? Hermione groaned as she closed the bathroom door behind her and looked in the mirror.

Her reflection peered back out at her, seeming unhappy with the bags under her eyes and the sallow tint to her already pale skin. Running her hands under the cold water in the sink, Hermione splashed some onto her face in an attempt to get rid of the haggard appearance. However, simply tossing cold water at herself wasn't working, so she decided a shower would be the best thing, for both her looks and her nerves.

She stopped dead when she saw the figure on the bed in her room. She had assumed Lucius would take her place for the night, but it was a sleeping Draco she was looking at. Just like his mother, Draco looked calm and relaxed while he slept. There was no trace of the telltale Malfoy smirk, or the Pureblood sneer; only a small downward tilt to his pink lips clued her in to the nightmare he was currently participating in. For the smallest instant, while she reached next to the bed and was only a few inches from the unconscious man, she felt the urge to soothe the frown away from his marble-like features. It quickly passed, however, and Hermione stood and went back into the bathroom.

Just as she had thought, the shower did wonders for her. She relaxed and the slight pain from so many tensed muscles swirled down the drain with the soapy water at her feet. By the time her fingers had started to prune, Hermione was relaxed in the shower stall, languidly running her fingers through her long blonde hair, letting her fingernails massage her scalp.

She didn't bother with blow-drying her hair after toweling herself off; she left her curls loose and let them air dry, liking the weight of her wet hair on her back as she slipped into a pair of black jean shorts and a tank top Narcissa insisted was eggplant. Hermione saw purple, plain and simple.

She stepped out of the bathroom and left the door open, letting the steam seep out into the hallway, curling under the nearby bedroom door where Draco still slept. Hermione quietly made her way into the kitchen and took a mug out of the cabinet by the sink. Filling it with hot water, she put a tea bag in to steep for a moment before putting the mug into the microwave. Opening the microwave door just before the buzzer sounded so as not to wake the others, Hermione carefully carried the full, steaming mug to the table.

In the hour before Lucius woke, Hermione stared blankly at the wall in front of her and sipped slowly at the hot drink. The tea soothed her a little, but not enough to calm her irrational fears. _Rabastan and Rodolphus are dead; they can't hurt me anymore,_ she thought, trying to reassure herself. Thoughts of the brothers' slow, painful deaths brought a grim smirk to her lips. That was how the eldest Malfoy found her; sitting at the kitchen table, mug in hand, with quite an evil smile creasing her face.

Hermione didn't expect any sympathy from Lucius, so when he sat beside her, she was a little surprised. The two sat in silence for a number of minutes, her still holding the empty mug between her hands, he straight backed, hands folded on the table before him.

"I apologize for my behavior yesterday," he said, causing Hermione to jump slightly; she had been silent for almost two hours, and the sound of someone's voice was a little startling.

She shook her head. "It's quite alright. I know you were just looking out for the wellbeing of your son." He may have been going about it the wrong way, in her opinion, but that _was_ what Lucius had been doing.

"My intentions were not to drag up the past, you understand." He pulled a hand through his chin-length hair, though he didn't exude as much nervousness as the movement usually indicated. Hermione thought it was high-time they get their hair redone.

"I know," she practically whispered. "You could not have known what happened during the War… no one knows." That surprised Lucius. Surely the girl had told her best friends, least of all the savior, Harry Potter?

"I know it will not help now, but I am truly sorry for what you endured." Before Hermione could respond, he had risen and left the room, leaving her to ponder what the Malfoy patriarch was thinking behind that slight frown.

It was unexpected, the way the house suddenly went dark that night. Hermione and Draco had been avoiding each other, but now it was with more embarrassment and less anger, so when the lights throughout the house shattered, the two moved together and got everyone into the living room. Narcissa had screamed as shards of glass flew from every direction, and she was now huddled behind her husband as Hermione and Draco held their wands at the ready.

"I'm going to the window. Stay back." She said it just loud enough for the three beside her to hear. They all complied when she made her way carefully to the window beside the television. Glancing out into the dark, she saw what she had been dreading; there were people outside, and by the way they stayed to the shadows, they weren't friendly.

"Get your bags," she hissed when she returned to the center of the room where the others stood. They did as she asked without complaint which was strange in itself. "Malfoy, follow me." Both men stepped forward, but she waved Lucius back, giving him a look that made it clear he was to stay put and protect his wife.

The two moved through the house to the master bedroom. Going to the window, Hermione carefully opened it, trying to be as quiet as possible. Luckily, it didn't make a sound as it swung open, letting in the cool night air. Draco had left his bag with his parents, so he was unhindered as he swung his leg over the windowsill and silently crawled through the small opening. Hermione followed, her wand poised in front of her, Stupefy on her lips.

Pointing, Draco made Hermione aware of the fact that there was someone coming towards where they were pressed up against the side of the house. She raised her wand, prepared to disarm and bind him, but Draco shook his head imperceptibly and slunk forward. Hermione watched, somewhat in awe, as he brought his left elbow down on the shorter mans' head. The intruder dropped to the ground, and before Hermione could protest, Malfoy sent a swift kick to his face, breaking his nose and rendering him unconscious.

Tight-lipped, Hermione moved quietly behind Malfoy, her ears open for any sign that the house had been breached. So far, it was silent, but that wasn't necessarily a good thing. Before they reached the front of the house, Malfoy had dispatched two more of the intruders. They had no idea how many there were, so it was with extreme caution that they approached the front door. There was no one in sight, but that didn't stop the hackles on the back of Hermione's neck from rising.

The two waited and searched for another thirty minutes, but found nothing more than the blood splatters Draco's assaults had left behind. They snuck back into the house and found Lucius and Narcissa right where Hermione had left them; standing silently in the middle of the room, bags in hand, wands raised. Neither of the Malfoys looked surprised to see Draco or Hermione walking cautiously into the house.

"We're leaving," Hermione said brusquely. She received no complaints as they collected their things from the floor and stood in a small circle.

"Where can we go?" Narcissa asked nervously. She was wringing her hands and looking about like someone would pop out of the shadows.

"I'll tell you when we get there." Draco didn't disappoint; a soft snort came from his direction. Hermione ignored him and wrapped her right arm around Narcissa, taking Lucius' shoulder in the same hand. Draco flinched back a little when she reached for him with her left hand, but he stood still when she reached for him a second time. Moments later, the familiar tugging was felt by all, and they were whisked away from Las Vegas, Nevada.

"So, Granger, where are we?" She bristled at Malfoy's accusing tone and continued walking through the tropical trees.

"The Queensland Islands. They're part of Australia, the islands of the Great Barrier Reef region of tropical North Queensland, to be precise."

"Any other information we need to know?" Malfoy asked in a snide tone she remembered so well from their school days. "Because I'm sure you know _so_ much more about these islands."

"Yes, I know so much in fact, that I could leave you alone for five minutes, and never see you again," Hermione replied brightly, tossing a large grin at him over her shoulder. He scowled and muttered something that sounded like 'bothersome harpy.'

"Children, children," Narcissa admonished, covering her smile with a yawn. "Miss Granger, is there a place we can sleep for the night?"

"Right up here," she said, pushing a branch aside and holding it up so Narcissa could slip underneath. She thought seriously about releasing the limb and letting it hit Draco in the face, but thought better of it after she saw the look on his face. "Are you feeling ok?"

"I'm fine," Malfoy ground out, trying to inconspicuously cradle his right arm. Pulling him forward, she grabbed his wrist and shoved the sleeve up carefully. There was a large shard of glass protruding from the underside of his forearm, marring the black picture of a snake and a skull. The blood dripping to the ground was _definitely_ not a good sign, no matter how convinced he was that everything was alright.

"Bloody hell! Were you planning on telling anyone about this before or after you lost enough blood to pass out?" Hermione knew she sounded a little too harsh, but he was _oozing_ blood. Even his normally white skin was a shade or two paler.

"I'm _fine_ Granger, it's only a little blood. Are you squeamish or something?" He was _taunting_ her! Incredible! Even while bleeding and on the run once more, Draco Malfoy found the time appropriate to ridicule her.

She didn't feel that an answer was necessary and resumed her examination of his wound. They took a seat on a patch of rocks nearby and Draco did his best to look indifferent to Hermione's prodding and poking of the area around the glass. He clearly didn't know how pale he was, not to mention the way his right hand was shaking.

"I'm going to take the glass out now, alright?" Draco merely nodded, his mouth a grim line. It must hurt more than she thought if he was showing weakness before her. Pushing that somewhat amusing thought to the back of her mind, Hermione took some of the supplies out of her bag and got to work.

Ten minutes and five gauze pads later, there was a two inch long piece of glass sitting on a rock. Draco was holding the gauze in place while Hermione taped it to his arm, careful not to pull the skin too tightly. She had sewn it up after a few moments protest about 'a squeamish witch with a needle'. Hopefully there would be no infection, seeing as she couldn't use magic to heal him properly. She'd done the best she could with what she had though, so they would all just have to wait and see.

"Come on, we should get inside before it gets too dark to see." They walked silently through the trees and brush for a little while longer until Hermione saw what she had been looking for. A small hut sat beneath large palm trees, shaded by the many large leaves at the top.

"This is lovely," Narcissa breathed, walking forward. Lucius and Draco were silent as they followed the women into the small shack. Nothing had changed from when Hermione had last been there.

The shack was still in good shape; no rotting wood or broken features, and the furniture was all intact. Again, there were only two bedrooms, but a very comfortable looking couch was situated in the main room. The appliances were few, seeing as it was a vacation home on a practically uninhabited island, but they would manage. The shack was unknown by the general populace, making its appeal twice as large to Hermione.

"So we move from one safe house to another," Lucius grumbled, sitting wearily on the aforementioned sofa. He leaned back and closed his eyes. "Why couldn't we return to England? Surely they're ready for us by now."

"Proudfoot assured me that they would inform us immediately when it was safe for our return. I received a message not long ago stating that under no circumstance was I to bring you back to London." Hermione sighed and ran her hands through her hair.

Narcissa frowned. "Is something wrong dear?" She watched the younger witch begin to pace.

"No one will tell me what's happening over there, and I'm concerned that they could be in over their heads."

"Granger, as highly as you think of yourself, I assure you, the Aurors can handle it without you," Draco muttered. Hermione opened her mouth to snap something mean, but Lucius held up a hand, his eyes still closed.

"As much as I would like to hear Miss Granger put you in your place, Draco, your mother and I need to sleep. It has been a long day, and I'm not as young as I once was. You two should do the same." He said no more as he stood and took Narcissa by the hand. The two went to the first bedroom on the left, closing the door behind them.

"Your father is right," Hermione said; she was suddenly feeling extremely tired. She was struggling to keep her eyes open as she nodded a goodnight to Draco and made her way to the second bedroom. She didn't care if he wanted it; she was too _tired_ to care.

She was also too exhausted to put her night clothes on. Luckily, the thin blanket covering the bed was relatively clean, and after a quick check, Hermione decided the bed was safe. Crawling into the middle in her bra and panties, she laid her head on the pillow and was instantly asleep.

Sometime later, Hermione didn't know how much, she was woken up by the sound of her door opening. For a groggy moment, she thought she was in her apartment, but a few rapid blinks brought her back to reality; she was in a shack in the middle of the Indian Ocean.

The door opened the rest of the way and a figure slunk in. The silver-blonde hair tipped her off to the intruders' identity; Malfoy. She hadn't rolled over or moved at all when she'd woken, her training having kicked in. So when he moved out of her sight on the left side of the bed, she felt a little wariness settle in. Who knew what Malfoy could be up to?

Apparently, she _didn't_ know what he was up to, because wherein she had previously thought he was up to no good, she quickly changed her assumption. He pulled the blanket back a little and slid into bed beside her. There wasn't quite enough space with her in the center, so he was pressed slightly against her back.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice thick from sleep. Her eyelids were already starting to droop.

"Just move over Granger," he mumbled, sounding just as tired as she felt. "I need to sleep in a real bed tonight. And I'm too tired to move now." She didn't doubt that for a moment. He'd lost enough blood to make a smaller person very woozy.

Not having the energy to protest any further, Hermione slowly shifted to the right side of the bed, her back still to him. By the way she could still feel his body heat, she figured the bed really was too small for two people not willing to touch during the night. Her last thought before she drifted off again was that Malfoy must be positively out-of-his-mind exhausted to even consider climbing into bed with her.

Hermione had trouble opening her eyes when she woke a few hours later. It was as if they were welded shut. _Why can't I have a decent night's sleep?_ she wondered drowsily. She went to rub her eyes, but found she couldn't move her left arm; there was something heavy on top of it. _What the…?_

Forcing her lids apart, Hermione almost cried out in surprise. Draco Malfoy, bane of her existence, was sleeping beside her. Not beside her, as much as _with_ her; his legs were tangled with hers, and he had his right arm slung over her waist. Her left hand was resting on his side, underneath his bicep.

She would have panicked a bit more, but the way his hot breath was blowing on the top of her head, plus the heartbeat under her right hand, was very soothing… She tried to stay awake, she really did, but Hermione was powerless against the forces that dragged her back under the dark, warm blanket of sleep. _This is so strange…_


	7. Chapter 6

The sunlight filtering in through the window woke Draco. _I feel like crap_, he thought with a mental snort. His limbs ached and the wound from the previous night still hurt enough to draw him out of sleep.

"What the fuck?" Granger, _Hermione Granger_, was curled into his embrace, sleeping soundly. _Did we…? No, not possible_, he assured himself, knowing that no matter how tired or out of it he was, Draco Malfoy would _never_ have slept with Hermione Granger, Queen of the Muggle-borns and prudes worldwide.

The longer he looked at her, the more he remembered from the night before; they hadn't had _sex_, they had merely slept in the same bed after he had tossed and turned on the uncomfortable couch for an hour. She had protested at first, but both had been tired enough to let it slide.

Unconsciously, he had begun to rub circles over her lower back with the fingers on his right hand. When she moaned something unintelligible in her sleep and moved a bit closer to him, Draco realized what he was doing and pulled his arm away like he'd been burned, bothering his wound in the process. Doing his best not to wake Hermione, he slipped his legs out from around hers and tried to slide backwards. When his head moved off the top of hers, she bent her chin down a bit, bringing her curls right up to his nose.

_She smells like apples…_ Draco mused, inhaling deeply without thinking. He loved apples, and the scent of them on Hermione Granger was quite appealing, if he only admitted it in his own mind. He had never been close enough to smell her hair before the other night, but he knew that she smelled of jasmine and vanilla, a scent that was uniquely _Granger_. Sure, he had been around girls with similar scents before, but it seemed _right_ on her, as if it just fit.

He looked down at her revealed top half while the blanket was wrapped around their waists. Just like him, she had not bothered putting pajamas on before climbing into bed. The only thing covering her was a black lacy bra, and he wondered about matching panties. Her skin was warm from their embrace, and her hot breath splayed across his bare chest. He gently touched her cheek, suddenly curious to see if her skin was as soft as it looked. His gaze traveled to her pink, bow-shaped lips and his thumb feathered across her bottom lip. A tingling sensation ran up his spine as he felt the warm air on his fingers.

When she stirred again, Draco came to his senses. Pulling his hand back, he resumed his attempt at freeing himself. He gently pushed himself off the mattress and fully disentangled his body from hers. One more slow movement had Draco standing on the floor beside the bed, glancing back at the sleeping woman to see if he'd woken her. He half expected to see her mocha eyes open and glaring venomously at him for interrupting her sleep.

As he left the room, Draco thought he should pull the blanket over her. Then she rolled onto her back and let a sigh pass her lips, her head still tilted towards where he had just been. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed deeply. He decided he rather liked the view and felt it would be against his morals as a bad boy to cover up such a lovely sight. Smirking, he walked into the main room to scrounge for food, leaving the blankets tangled around her lower body.

Hermione groaned and pried her eyes open. Rubbing them for a moment, she took her time fully waking up. She looked around slowly, checking out the bedroom she had foolishly neglected to survey before falling asleep. A thought popped into her head and she quickly looked to her right. A clear imprint of a head was in the other pillow, and the blanket was tossed back towards the middle. It was as if someone had gotten out of the bed on the side opposite her.

Scrambling to her feet, Hermione threw shorts and a t-shirt on and practically ran from the room. She found the youngest Malfoy standing in the center of the kitchen, looking around thoughtfully. He wore exactly what he had slept in; black boxers. Apparently, the three other people in the house were not important enough to at least put pants on for. Hermione said as much and Malfoy turned to look at her with one brow raised.

"Are you _embarrassed_ Granger?" he taunted, smirking at her. Hermione rolled her eyes and wandered around the kitchen, searching for something, _anything_ to eat. She was positively starving.

"There's nothing to eat here," Malfoy said, reading her mind. His stomach growled to emphasize his point. "Believe me, I've already looked everywhere."

"I might still have some food in my bag," Hermione said after thinking for a moment. Draco followed her back to the bedroom, pulling a pair of black slacks out of his duffel bag while she searched the depths of her beaded purse.

Finally, her search proved fruitful. Pulling out a few granola bars, she passed one to Draco. He opened it and popped half in his mouth, chewing slowly. Hermione sat on the end of the bed and opened her own bar. Biting off a small piece, she thought about where they would get more food while they waited on this island. By the time she finished the strawberry granola bar, Hermione had a plan. She left the bedroom and went to wake the elder Malfoys.

"How will that ever work, Granger?" Hermione ignored him and explained the rest of her plan to the family.

"It's simple, really. Draco and I will find a boat or a car to take us to the main part of the island, where we will _carefully_ get some supplies. We'll take our wands just in case, but I do not suggest using them. Whoever found us yesterday could be tracking our wands."

"Are you sure you don't want us all to come along?" Narcissa asked, worry creating lines on her forehead. Hermione shook her head.

"No, I don't want to be too conspicuous. Two people will go unnoticed much easier than four. If anything happens, send a message to Harry with this coin and Apparate to the mainland. You should be safe in Australia for the amount of time it will take Draco and me to shop for food." Handing Lucius the coin, Hermione looked at the three Malfoys, a flicker of uneasiness flickering through her mind briefly. _No, I'm doing the right thing,_ she thought, pushing her nerves down.

"Are you positive that leaving them alone here is safe?" Draco asked once they had set out together. Hermione sighed. This was the fifth time he had asked such a question.

"Malfoy, your parents are safe, trust me. How would anyone find us way out here?" She looked pointedly at him when he opened his mouth to argue. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"If anything happens to them," he half mumbled, half growled. Hermione stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"I promise you that your parents are safe. Nothing will happen to them while we're gone. If you want to go back and stay with them, that's fine. I can handle myself."

"I know you can," he said slowly. "I was there during the war too you know. I'm not helpless."

Hermione sighed. "Draco, I know you aren't helpless, and neither are your parents. If it would make you feel better, go back and stay with your parents. Do something productive and clean the cabin a bit, or something." Draco looked back the way they had come and then at Hermione. "Go on," she shooed, waving her hand at him. A wall went up over his emotions as he walked away from her. She understood the need to protect family, and she didn't fault him for it one bit.

After Malfoy left, Hermione continued on. Only her time at the gym over the years saved her from exhaustion as she trekked through the brush for what seemed like hours. Finally, she spotted another cabin at the waters' edge. Taking a deep breath, Hermione walked over to where she saw an elderly couple sitting in wooden chairs a few feet from the ocean.

"Hello," she said brightly when they turned to look at her. The man nodded to her and stood. "I was wondering if it was possible to use a boat and go to the main portion of the island for supplies." She smiled what she hoped was an encouraging smile. The man nodded again and led her to the other side of the cabin.

There were five metal boats, all motorized, and all large enough for four people. Hermione wondered where this couple had gotten the money for the boats, or if the government paid them to ferry tourists like her. Either way, she needed to borrow one, and she desperately hoped it would not cost her too much money. There was no telling when she could next get cash.

"Do you accept American money?" Hermione asked, hopeful. The old man shook his head. "Well, how about British pounds?"

This time, he smiled and nodded, leading her to the nearest boat. Hermione helped him push the boat the few meters into the tide. The man climbed in first, sticking his hand out to help her into the vessel. Smiling, he held his hand out after she was seated on the bench.

"I'll pay you half now, and half when I finish with my shopping. Is that alright?" She dearly hoped it wouldn't upset the old man; she didn't want to risk him leaving her after receiving all the money. But, he smiled and nodded, his wrinkled, tan hand still outstretched. Hermione fished thirty-five pounds and passed him the three banknotes. He smiled and tucked the notes carefully into a pocket inside his shirt.

The trip was fairly easy; Hermione never got a single feeling of sea sickness and they got there in no time. The old man, who said his name was Giovanni, docked and tied up the boat at a main pier. Getting out first, he held his hand out to Hermione again, lifting her safely onto the land. She smiled at him and promised she wouldn't be too long. Smiling, Giovanni got back into his boat without a word, sitting down and reaching underneath him for a newspaper.

Hermione was glad she had come here with her mother; otherwise she would never have been able to figure out what she was looking for without making herself look like a fool. It may have been a place for tourists, but those tourists had maps and guides. Walking toward a likely looking place for a market, Hermione was happy to find that there was in fact an entire supermarket. She hadn't remembered ever visiting a supermarket here with her mother.

Almost two hours and a lot of money later, Hermione sighed as she held two bags out for Giovanni to put into the boat for her. The other eight bags were in her purse. The visit had been uneventful for the most part. In fact, the most interesting thing that happened was when a tourist confronted his wife about cheating on him with one of the staff members at their hotel. Muggles.

"Here you are." Giovanni smiled brightly and tipped his straw hat to her as she handed him the other thirty-five pounds she owed him. He hadn't asked for a certain amount, and she hoped that was enough, even if it was a bit much. She thought he and his wife would appreciate it nonetheless. Besides, the Aurors were paying for it all, not her.

"Granger, took you long enough," Malfoy commented dryly when she opened the door. Tired, hot, and sweating, Hermione was not in any sort of mood to put up with Malfoy and his childish habits.

"I wasn't sure what you would all like, so I bought a lot. I can always go back if we get low on supplies." She had visited a general store as well for first aid and repair needs. Narcissa began putting the items in appropriate places as Hermione set them on the table.

"This looks wonderful Hermione, thank you," the older woman said, smiling. Hermione smiled back and excused herself. She figured a hot shower was in order.

Thirty minutes later, Hermione returned to her bedroom, surprised to see Draco asleep in the bed. She had momentarily forgotten that it was _their_ room, not hers. Quietly grabbing her clothes out of her bag, Hermione had to change carefully; Narcissa had entered the bathroom after her. Keeping her back to him, Hermione dressed quickly, hanging her towel over the back of a bedpost on her side. Draco didn't stir even once.

Hermione looked at him, thoughtful. In sleep, he looked so peaceful, so calm and at ease. It was such a change from what he displayed when conscious, that Hermione couldn't help but watch him sleep for a few minutes. He shifted suddenly, reminding her that he could wake any moment and catch her staring. Hermione was about to leave when she saw that the gauze over his wound needed changing. She would do it when he woke.

"Granger." Hermione stopped at the door. "C'mere," he groaned, his voice a little hoarse.

"Malfoy, are you feeling alright?" Looking closely at his eyes, Hermione noticed they were glassier than usual. She put a hand on his forehead and frowned. He was starting to burn up and sweat had begun to collect on his face. "I'll go make you some soup."

Rushing into the kitchen, her mind whirling, Hermione prepared the chicken noodle soup from a can she had bought earlier that day. Luckily, it didn't take too long, so she was able to return to his side. Of course, he hadn't worsened in the ten minutes that she had been gone, but Hermione was worried. If he had a fever, it was a possibility that infection was the cause.

Hermione had to return to the kitchen. Searching through drawers, she tried to find the medical supplies, but she couldn't locate them. Going to the Malfoy parents' bedroom, she quickly knocked on the door.

"Yes? What is it Hermione?" Narcissa asked, smiling as she turned a page in a magazine Hermione had picked out for her.

"Where did you put the first aid kits?" She tried to sound calm, but if Draco's arm was indeed infected, there was only so much she would be able to do.

Narcissa frowned and sat up. "Is something the matter, dear?"

"Draco is running a fever. I haven't checked yet, but I want to make sure that it isn't caused by infection." Narcissa rose and went to the kitchen, opening the doors underneath the sink. The first aid supplies were in a basket behind some cleaning tools Hermione had bought.

Hermione wished she had found the supplies on her own. Having mother and father Malfoy hovering over her while she unwrapped Draco's arm was a tad nerve wracking. To make things worse, when the bandages were finally off, Hermione saw that the wound was indeed infected.

The skin around the wound was red and beginning to swell. Hermione didn't see any green or yellow fluid coming from the cut, but it still looked bad. Frowning, she asked Narcissa to get her some clean, wet towels along with a few dry ones. Instructing Lucius to sit Draco up, Hermione sat on the bed beside the younger Malfoy.

"I can sit up by myself, you know," Draco muttered, frowning. He allowed his father to help him up nonetheless. "Is it infected, Granger?"

"It looks that way, Malfoy. Here, eat this. It will help you feel better." She handed him the soup, careful to watch him so he would not spill it on himself.

"What can we do to help?" Mrs. Malfoy asked, concerned.

"When he's done eating, could you put one of the hot towels over his arm? The steam and heat should help clean the wound. Use some soap as well. If the swelling continues, we'll need to ice it." Hermione searched through her bag, hoping she was correct in thinking she had a potion that would assist in Draco's recovery.

"What's that?" Draco looked at Hermione suspiciously.

"Something I thought we might need," Hermione answered. "I packed for practically anything."

"I can see that. Do you have all of St. Mungo's in that little bag of yours?"

"No, of course not. But being on the run during the war taught me that you can never be fully prepared. So I tried harder this time to be ready for anything."

"Well I am certainly glad that you tried so hard," Narcissa said, giving her son a disapproving look. "Drink the potion, Draco."

"Fine. But if I die, it's her fault," he grumbled, glaring at Hermione. She rolled her eyes and handed him the vial. Tipping his head back, Draco upended the contents of the small glass bottle. "This is disgusting."

"It's a potion Draco, it's not supposed to taste like pumpkin juice," Lucius said.

"Just let me rewrap this, and then we will all leave you to rest," Hermione said before Draco could say anything rude to his father.

Hermione checked the stitches she had done, making sure that none were attributing to the infection. Luckily, the stitches looked fine. She cleaned the wound one more time before wrapping gauze and bandages around Draco's forearm.

"I'll come back in and change the dressing in a few hours. Get some sleep, you look awful." Draco snorted and lay back. "Drink a lot of water and you should feel fine."

"What was the potion for?" he asked after Hermione had gotten him a bottle of water.

"It was a post-infection potion the Healers gave me. It wipes out the bacteria and germs in your system. You might feel strange for a while, but you should be fine by tomorrow." Malfoy nodded and closed his eyes, effectively ending the conversation.

Hours later, Hermione went back into the bedroom to check on Draco. He was still sleeping, so she was careful to be quiet as she inspected the bandages. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. There was no spotting or liquid marring the white cloth. A good sign, but not evidence that the wound was completely healed. She would have to come back later and remove the bandages to fully examine the injury.

"Is there food?" He still sounded exhausted.

"Yes, your mother is preparing dinner now. I'll bring you some, if you would like." Draco nodded and closed his eyes again, drifting back into slumber.

"I hope chicken is alright," Narcissa said, placing the chicken breasts on four plates. "I roasted some vegetables as well, and there are mashed potatoes in the microwave." Hermione had taught her the simple cooking tricks in America.

"It looks great," Hermione said, meaning it. The meal looked delicious, and the protein was just what Draco needed. She picked up a plate and a fresh glass of water and brought the dish to the bedroom.

"Malfoy, I have food for you," she said quietly, not wanting to startle him. He nodded and opened his eyes, sitting up when he saw the plate. "I'll just put it on the table."

Hermione placed the plate and glass on the table beside the bed. Turning to leave, Malfoy's hand around her wrist stopped her. She looked at him, concerned that his arm was hurting him.

"How are you feeling? Is your arm bothering you?" She reached over to remove the bandages and check the wound, but Draco stopped her.

"I feel just fine, Granger," he said, smiling. "Wonderful, in fact." It was the goofy smile that tipped Hermione off.

"Malfoy, I'm afraid the potion is kicking in. You aren't acting like yourself." Straightening, she gave him an amused look. "Eat your dinner and go back to sleep."

"Will you come back?" He looked so hopeful, so deceptively hopeful, that Hermione sighed. She took a deep breath before nodding slowly. Malfoy's aristocratic face lit up, his bright smile startling her. She had never seen him smile like that before. Certainly not at her.

"I'll come back in as soon as I finish my dinner." She made to leave the room.

"Promise?" That stopped her. He was asking her to _promise_ him something? She hesitated for a moment before answering.

"I promise. I will be back soon." Draco grinned at her before turning his attention to his dinner. He began to eat like a complete animal, so opposite his own nature. He tore at the chicken, taking too-large pieces onto his fork and ripping at them until there was a piece small enough to fit into his mouth. Hermione had to leave the room, afraid that if she laughed, he might cry, or something equally un-Malfoy-like.

"How is he?" Narcissa asked once Hermione was seated across the table from her.

"The potion has kicked in, so he's quite loopy. I'm going to check his arm when he finishes his meal."

"Just _how_ ridiculous is he acting?" Lucius asked warily. Hermione wondered briefly if he was worried Draco would tell her something sensitive during his medical inebriation.

"He's positively batty," she admitted. He sighed and ran a hand over his eyes.

Hermione was surprised by how human the act made the formidable man before her seem. During the time they had been together, Hermione and the Malfoy patriarch had not necessarily warmed up to each other, but they were polite and civil during their conversations. The… _incident_ had not been brought up since that night, but Hermione saw that Lucius remembered what she had told him by the way his eyes would look quickly away when they spoke privately.

"I apologize in advance for the trouble I am sure my son will give you," Draco's mother said, bringing Hermione out of her suddenly dark thoughts and back to the dinner table. "Draco has always been a handful, but sometimes he can be quite—."

"Cissy," her husband admonished, cutting her off. She raised a brow at the exasperated look he was giving her.

"Darling, I was only going to say that Draco can be quite docile when he so chooses. It is an infrequent occurrence, but it has been known to happen, once or twice." The woman smiled at Hermione before delicately placing a small piece of chicken into her mouth.

The three returned to their dinners, leaving the table in silence. Listening to the quiet scraping of silverware on china plates, Hermione was left to her thoughts.


	8. Chapter 7

"Draco?" Hermione stood tentatively at the door to the bedroom, not wanting to intrude on the man's sleep. His eyes popped open and he grinned at her. He looked so young and innocent in that second that Hermione didn't move, afraid of ruining the moment.

"You came back!" He sounded so cheerful and excited. Hermione had to force herself not to laugh. Settling for a small smile, she approached the bed.

"I promised I would, remember?" She climbed onto the bed, leaning against the headboard. Beside her, Malfoy Jr. sat up and turned his body to face her.

"You did. Do you need to clean this again?" he asked, wrinkling his nose. It was positively adorable. Hermione dubbed this Draco as Young Draco, enjoying the way he was so uninhibited around her. He was showing her a side of him that Narcissa and Lucius were privy to, if not for only a few innocent years. She would lock this encounter into her memories, wanting to always remember the way Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prince, had most likely acted as a young child.

"I do, unfortunately," Hermione said. He frowned, lines creasing his pale forehead. "Here, let me see that arm."

Draco made as if he could barely lift his right arm, grinning when she looked alarmed. He laughed, a strange, boyish sound that made Hermione suddenly very happy and carefree. She didn't know that only a room away, his parents had stopped at the sound, glancing at each other. Neither had heard such a sound from their only son in a long, long time. Both silently vowed to make sure Draco laughed more from then on.

"Stop fooling and give me your arm." He placed his arm in her hands, holding still while she removed the bandages. She had grown so used to the sight of his Dark Mark that it barely phased her anymore. Once back in London, that thought would probably make her gag.

"It doesn't look too bad, thankfully. The potion is certainly working, so you should be just fine by tomorrow evening at the latest." She smiled at him before thinking about whom she was conversing with. The thought took the smile away.

This time tomorrow, Draco would be a prat again, and she would be reduced to holding her temper in his presence. It made her unnervingly sad to think that she would never see this side of Draco Malfoy ever again. She doubted she would ever hear that happy, strong laugh either.

He must have noticed how her mood had suddenly changed, because he placed his left hand under her chin, tilting her head up to meet his eyes. He smiled at her. It was a free, bright smile that made Hermione smile in return. How could she feel sadness around such a carefree personality?

"Tell me a story," he said, surprising her. She furrowed her brow, wondering what sort of story he would like to hear.

"How about I tell of the tales of the Deathly Hallows?" She knew that he must already know the story by heart, but there was no telling what Young Draco would like.

He shook his head. "Tell me about you, during the war, I mean." He never took his eyes off her face. Hermione hoped he had missed the frightened look in her eyes.

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Draco," she said slowly, desperately trying to think of a way to get him off the subject.

"Of course it's a good idea. I want to know what it was like, being on the run, on your own during the war." He sounded as if he truly wished to know how she had fared during such a dark time.

"Why would you want to hear about the war? I would have thought you were sick of the war," Hermione hedged, trying to stall. Young Draco lay down and put his head on her shoulder. It startled Hermione and she froze up.

"I think I'll be ok if you tell it, Hermione," he said, stifling a large yawn. He snuggled into her side, wrapping his arm over her stomach, effectively keeping her in place. Even with the attitude of a young child, Malfoy still had the corded muscles of a lifetime Quidditch player.

"If you say so," Hermione mumbled, looking down at the blonde head resting on her shoulder. "Where would you like me to begin?"

"After the last time I saw you at Hogwarts. After Dumbledore died." He got quiet for a moment, and Hermione imagined he was reliving his part in their old Headmasters' death.

"So the beginning of the War, essentially." Hermione sighed and thought hard about what she wanted to say. Should she tell him what she'd told children over the past year? Or should she tell him what actually happened? He decided for her.

"Don't leave out anything." He tilted his head upwards to look her in the eye. "I want to know how much I messed up." The sad, sorrowful look he was giving her almost made her tear up. Almost. Those big, grey eyes staring up at her, begging her to forgive him.

"Well, as you know, Harry, Ron and I went searching for Horcruxes," she began. "We were all over the place. The three of us searched everywhere, hoping for even a hint as to where a Horcrux could be. It was difficult, especially when we had to keep going quickly from one place to the next, always trying to stay away from Snatchers." She paused, thinking about the one time they _had_ been caught by the Snatchers. _Suck it up Hermione. You lived through it then, you can certainly do it now._

As if reading her mind, Draco spoke up. "I'm sorry about that… that day at the Manor," he said softly. She looked down at him, having previously been staring across the room at the wall to keep her emotions intact.

"It's not your fault," she mumbled. If anyone who knew her had heard Hermione mutter that particular sentence to this particular man, they would have scoffed and laughed at her bald-faced lie. But after spending so much time in the presence of the Malfoy family, she now knew that it truly wasn't their fault.

"You couldn't do anything, it's as simple as that," Hermione admitted, both to herself and to Draco. She had no idea that the elder Malfoy's were sitting just outside the door, listening to their son and his new, unorthodox friend.

"I don't know," he said slowly, frowning. Hermione cut him off before he could say anything else.

"Draco, your aunt was intent on torturing me. If any of you had even attempted to interfere, she would have turned her wand on you in a heartbeat. I know that now." She sighed, thinking about how she had hated the family for the longest time because of that day. "It was self-preservation. I probably would have tried to stop her if I had been in your shoes, but then I would have been killed instantly. If anything, that shows that you have a better head on your shoulders than I do."

"I'm not so sure about that," he mumbled. Hermione frowned, thinking he sounded much too serious for the way the potion had been affecting him. _Maybe it's wearing off already…_ That was a sobering thought.

"After we escaped your Manor, we went to Gringotts. I had taken a Polyjuice potion with a hair from your aunt Bellatrix. Harry was hidden under his invisibility cloak, and Ron was one of the Snatchers we'd come into contact with.

"We found the cup from Hufflepuff in her vault, but it took some time getting to. There was a spell on everything in the room that caused all the trinkets and gold to multiply every time it was touched. Of course, the cup was high up at the back of the room, and it took Harry quite some time to get to it.

"When we finally had the cup in hand, we were able to get out of the vault, but that nasty dragon Gringotts has protecting the vaults was blocking our only way out." She smiled, thinking of how she had jumped on the creatures' back and used it to break the three of them out of the depths of Gringotts Wizarding bank. "We flew out of there on the back of the dragon. After about an hour, we'd left London far enough behind to jump off the dragon into a lake. After that, it was mostly just us moving around, trying to find clues about the Horcruxes, and staying alive."

Draco was silent when she finished. "What about when you came back to Hogwarts for the final battle?" He frowned. He could tell she was holding something back, but he couldn't put his finger on what.

"You were there at Hogwarts," Hermione said, hoping he wouldn't catch onto the way her voice hitched at the end. Hogwarts was the last time she had seen the Lestrange brothers. She'd heard they were dead.

"Yeah, but all that other stuff? I just can't figure out what you were freaking out about that one time." Hermione froze. Draco noticed and looked up at her again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you upset," he said, looking genuinely unhappy at her change in mood.

"It's alright," Hermione replied stiffly, softening the harsh way her words sounded by running her right hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He sighed and snuggled closer to her, wrapping his injured arm tighter around her torso.

"You only have to tell me if you want to," he said, leaning into her hand like a cat. The corners of Hermione's lips turned upwards, unable to deny Young Draco anything. She began playing with his hair. Somehow, it was calming for the both of them.

"I find that I do want to tell you," she murmured. It pained her to say so, but she liked this Draco. _It pains me to say that I like _any_ part of Draco Malfoy_.

She took a deep breath, and then released it. And took another. And one more, before beginning her next story.

"I got separated from the boys a few months before the Final Battle. Harry and Ron had gone out for food in a nearby Muggle town, and I only left camp for a moment. I just wanted to escape the feeling of being on the run for just a few minutes.

"I didn't hear the Snatchers come in from all sides. They were stealthy; they'd learned, just as we had, how to move silently through the forest. They stunned me, took my wand, and brought me to their nearest camp. There weren't many people there, and only one Death Eater." Hermione didn't miss how Young Draco flinched at the title he had once held. She resumed her petting, trying to relax him.

"Rodolphus Lestrange, your uncle, was that Death Eater. He knew who I was, but he didn't want to turn me over to his wife, Bellatrix, just then. He got in touch with his brother, and they talked for a long time about what to do with me." She had to stop and take another deep breath before continuing. "They decided after two days of keeping me shackled to a tree in camp that it would be best if they questioned me in private, away from the prying ears of the Snatchers. That's what they told me, anyways. It would have made sense, if they had actually wanted to capture Harry and Ronald. But they made it quite clear that they only wanted me alone."

"I don't know where exactly their hideout was, but from the glimpse I caught on the way inside, it looked like an old mansion. It was in Edinburgh, but that probably means nothing to you." Hermione cleared her throat in preparation for what she would tell him next. She knew that adults like herself hated hearing stuff like this; there was no telling how Young Draco would react.

"They chained me to a wall in the dungeon. I couldn't touch the ground, and after a few hours, I had no feeling in my hands. I think it was a combination of the shackles digging into my skin and all the blood rushing out of my arms.

"I was alone for a while. I don't know how long it was. There were no windows, so I could never tell what time of day or night it was. When they finally paid me a visit, they were polite at first, offering me food and water, allowing me time to let my guard down before they would strike.

"I had just finished the bread they gave to me, when Rodolphus hit me with a light Cruciatus. I'd already experienced such a curse, and compared to Bellatrix, her husband wielding the wand was like a tickle. The power of the curse all depends on the person who casts it. If the wizard, like Lestrange, only wanted to scare me into answering, they wouldn't need such a heavy curse. But when Bellatrix questioned me, she put all of her force behind it; I felt like my head would explode, that all of my organs were slowly, painfully, shutting down. It was awful."

"But you're ok now, right?" It was strange that Malfoy needed that confirmation vocalized. If she wasn't ok, she wouldn't be there. But she didn't say it like that.

"Yeah, I'm ok now." She accredited the question to the inquiries of a nervous youngster.

"I'm glad. So what happened next?"

"Are you sure you want to know? It gets pretty… well, frankly, it gets sort of gruesome." She was honestly trying to frighten him off the subject.

But he had that Malfoy determination that had made him such a formidable opponent in the race for top academic spot all throughout their years at Hogwarts. "No, I want to know." His mind was set; she didn't think there was anything that could make him change it.

"Alright," Hermione sighed, slipping her mind back in time, back to before the world had been set right again. "He didn't hold me under the Cruciatus for very long; maybe five minutes. When I could breathe, they asked me where Harry and Ron were. I told them I didn't know. I was trying to stay calm, but they scared me. I didn't know what they were capable of. I don't like the unknown.

"They tortured me for the next two or three days; I lost count after all the blackouts from the curses. I didn't see them again for what seemed like only a few hours, but I must have slept longer than that. It was most likely closer to a day later when they came for me again.

"I was so worried about Harry and Ron, I thought if they used Legilimency on me that I wouldn't be able to stop them. I don't know why they didn't even try it. At least your aunt attempted to get into my mind before torturing me.

"Rodolphus came at me first. He yanked on my arms, pulling my wrists tighter against the shackles. I remember screaming as I felt my wrists break. I remember crying when they beat me physically, when I was so broken that I could barely see straight. I, however, do not recall ever shedding a tear when they used me… used me sexually." She let her words sink in, not stopping for a single moment in the movements her fingers made through Draco's silky blonde hair.

Draco didn't say anything. Hermione looked down at him, but he wouldn't meet her eyes. She imagined that even in the state he was in, her old schoolmate knew what she meant.

Over the next thirty minutes, Hermione and Draco sat quietly, her playing with his hair, he holding onto her waist like a lifeline. Eventually, both slipped into sleep. Hermione managed to slide down the headboard until she was lying straight without jostling Malfoy too much. She was especially careful of his injured arm. She had neglected to bandage it after her quick examination earlier, but she figured the fresh air would do it some good.

Sometime later, perhaps hours, Hermione heard the bedroom door open. She opened her eyes to slits. She wasn't ready to face other people, not when she couldn't even face herself. Narcissa and Lucius crowded the doorway, looking at the two sometime enemies. She saw the chair parked across the hall with a book beside it, and knew they had been listening. For some reason, the observation didn't upset her. In fact, it relieved her. She figured Lucius had told his wife that day what she had revealed to him on the streets of Las Vegas, but now they had _all_ the facts.

Hermione stayed awake a little while longer, contemplating her life. Eventually, she too fell asleep. She stayed close to Draco, needing the physical contact to calm her, in both body and mind. Hearing his steady breathing, and feeling his heartbeat under her ear allowed Hermione to relax and push everything behind the steel walls in her mind once more. She drifted off thinking about how Malfoy would react when he found her curled against him.


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: I know I'm an awful person for not updating in any sort of organized way, but sometimes I forget that I've finished a chapter and that other people besides myself actually want to read it… And thank you to everyone who is reading it, I really appreciate any comments you have about errors I have made (which I don't get mad about, I promise) because I'm not perfect and sometimes Google Maps lies to me about which country a city is in. Or I can't read a map. Either way… Please review, as I take everything you say into consideration! To prove it, I completely forgot to write a reaction from Draco about the morning (the first paragraph) before a reader mentioned that they were looking forward to reading it. So, thank you again for commenting and telling me what you guys would like and would not like to see from the story as a whole, or bits and parts along the way.**

**~Alex**

Draco woke with a groan. His head ached and he felt like he'd drank three bottles of Fire Whiskey by himself. Immediately, he noticed the other presence in the bed; Granger was curled quite lovingly around his body. Her head rested on his chest and she had one arm over his chest, while her right hand clutched his hair almost painfully. It didn't escape his notice that he was clutching her tightly, he just chose to ignore it for the moment.

"Wake up! Miss Granger, wake up!" Hermione groaned and opened her eyes. Narcissa Malfoy was leaning over her. Hermione almost told the woman to give her ten more minutes, but then she saw the frightened look in her eyes.

Hermione sat up, forcing Narcissa to take a step back. "What's going on?"

"Someone is out there."

"Have you seen them?" Hermione stood and put her arm around the other woman's shoulders, bringing her to sit on the bed. "What do they look like?"

"Lucius and I didn't want to make ourselves noticeable," she explained hurriedly. "We haven't seen who it is."

"It might just be some other tourists exploring," Hermione said soothingly. But she was anything but calm. Her nerves were on hyper drive, her muscles tightening. "Why don't you and your family stay here, in this room, and I'll go out and investigate."

"You really shouldn't go alone, dear." Hermione shook her head.

"I can't put you three in danger. I'll be fine, don't worry." She smiled at Mrs. Malfoy, hoping that her outward calm didn't betray her inward turmoil. _How did they find us?_

Dressing quickly, Hermione grabbed her wand and exited the room. The Malfoy men were sitting at the kitchen table. They looked up when she entered. Lucius nodded to her in greeting, but it was Draco's response she was interested in. He looked at her for a moment before dipping his head in acknowledgement. _So, he's back already._ She supposed that was a good thing; there was no telling how Young Draco would have handled this situation. But, Hermione secretly mourned the loss of his young energy.

"Go into the bedroom with Mrs. Malfoy and _stay there_," she said, getting back to the present issue. She couldn't emphasize any more how critical it was that they not be seen. "I am going outside to see who the bloody hell is out here."

The men didn't say a word to her, but they both grudgingly rose from their chairs and walked quickly and quietly to the bedroom. Hermione could hear Narcissa whispering something before the door was closed.

She looked out every window, scanning the trees. There didn't seem to be anyone out there, but then again, that was when they were at their most dangerous. If an enemy could see her, but she couldn't see them, she could kiss her life goodbye.

_Just stay calm, look around a bit, and keep your wits about you._ Hermione slowly opened the front door, glad that the trees mostly hid the entrance. Slipping out into the sunlight, she was careful to survey her surroundings before taking another step.

The sun filtered through the treetops, giving the ground and ethereal look. The birds and other wildlife made their regular morning sounds while going about their business. There were no suspicious snapping of twigs, or rustling of leaves to indicate that someone other than her was present in the dense, luscious forest.

"Hermione?" The voice came from somewhere to her left. Swinging around, wand at the ready, Hermione looked around, searching for whoever had spoken. She was unprepared for the flash of red before she was tackled to the ground.

"I knew you were here! When we didn't hear from you for a while, Shacklebolt had someone drop in on the safe house in America. But there was no one there, so we figured something had happened, and you and the Malfoy's had gone somewhere else."

"Ginny, how did you get here?" Hermione was positively stunned to see her friend. "How did you know I would take them here?" _If the Aurors found us, does that mean the bad guys did too?_ Hermione was suddenly nervous about being outside for so long.

Pulling the younger witch to her feet, Hermione led Ginny Weasley into the house they were currently occupying. She made them both cups of tea before allowing herself to calm her nerves and sit down.

"Well, as I was saying," Ginny began. Hermione held up a hand.

"I think that the Malfoy's should hear this as well," she said practically. Ginny nodded and Hermione rose from her seat.

Walking down the short hall, she knocked on the door to the bedroom where the three blondes were waiting. Lucius opened the door warily and upon seeing who it was, he lowered his wand and let Hermione in.

"It's Ginny Weasley," she said, getting right to the point. "I thought it would be best if you all heard what she has to say as well."

"Oh, thank the Gods," Narcissa said, her shoulders visibly relaxing. Draco stood, holding a hand out to his mother for assistance. He still had yet to look at Hermione, and she wondered if he remembered anything from the night before. She wasn't sure if she wanted him to or not.

The family followed Hermione out of the bedroom and into the front room. Ginny swiveled her head to watch the four enter behind her, secretly thinking that Hermione, with her hair the same color as theirs, looked like one of the Malfoy's. She was certainly pale enough.

"Mr. Malfoy," Ginny said, extending her hand as she stood. Lucius looked at her for a moment before grudgingly placing his hand in contact with the witch's. It was there for a mere second before he pulled it back and sat down on the couch. Narcissa murmured a hello to Ginny before sitting beside her husband. Draco didn't even look at his distant cousin as he went to lean against the wall next to the kitchen door.

As Hermione sat in the empty seat beside Narcissa, she felt a faint sense of déjà vu. The scene looked much like the one when she had first encountered the Malfoy family. And as Ginny stood before them, she felt a little bad for her young friend. It was not an enjoyable experience, being under the scrutiny of the Malfoy clan.

"So, as I was saying to Hermione a few minutes ago, the Aurors were concerned when there was no response to any of our messages. So Minister Shacklebolt sent a notice to the American Aurors to have them check out the house. When they told us that the house was trashed and that you four were gone, we didn't know what to think. We weren't sure if you had been taken, or if you had escaped and gone somewhere safe.

"I voiced my thoughts last night during the meeting, that while Hermione was capable of caring for herself and the Malfoys, with their help, there was little chance that they had been taken anywhere against their will." She grinned at Hermione then, almost excited to tell them what happened next. "So, when I remembered what Hermione had told me just before coming on this mission, that she would like to vacation here, on this island, again, I told the Aurors. At first, of course, they thought I was silly for thinking you would come here just because of a passing conversation we had.

"But I insisted, and Harry and Ron backed me up, so they allowed me to come here and check it out. I had to take a plane, that big flying metal contraption," she explained when the Malfoy's looked confused, "to Australia, and then another small plane here. I figured the main part of the island was too crowded for your liking, so I decided to venture out here. And I found you!"

"What happens now?" Narcissa asked, looking to her husband. He took her hand in his and gave her a comforting squeeze. Hermione saw Ginny blink in surprise at the unusual show of affection from the elder Malfoys.

"I take you back to London," Ginny said. "We have everything under control now, so it is safe for you and your family to return." She glanced at the watch Hermione had given her for her birthday. "We can leave now and return just before the Aurors go on lunch break."

"If you could give us a minute to pack, we'll be right out," Hermione said, rising from the couch. It hadn't really hit her yet that she would be able to sleep in her own bed in her apartment tonight instead of either on a cot or in a bed with Draco Malfoy.

Ginny nodded and waited in the front room while they all walked around the house, collecting anything and everything they had brought with them. Hermione decided at the last minute to take the medical supplies from under the sink with her. There was no sense in being unprepared.

They converged once more five minutes later, having gathered everything they could find into their black duffel bags. Hermione stood in front of Ginny, wondering if she had the power to Apparate all five of them back to the Ministry by herself. She wouldn't say it aloud though.

Ginny solved her silent question by asking her to do the honors, smiling as if it were a treat. "Nice cover up," Hermione murmured, smiling at her friend. Ginny blushed.

"Hey, I'm learning, ok? I'm up to three people."

"Are they all whole?" Ginny coughed and looked down at her feet. Hermione laughed and motioned for her friend and her three charges to stand around her.

"Ginny and Draco, if you could hold onto my arms please? Thank you." She waited until they both had firm grips on her forearms before extending her hands to the elder Malfoys. "Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, if you could take my hands please?" Once all four people had tight holds on her, she began the countdown.

"Three." She envisioned the Apparition spot at the Ministry.

"Two." Everyone's grips tightened.

"One." There was the familiar tugging in the pit of her stomach, and then they landed.

She had sorely missed the sight of her workplace. The hustle and bustle of all the witches and wizards moving around was comforting after so much isolation.

"C'mon, we'll go through here." Ginny led them down the familiar corridor. They all pretended they didn't notice the way everyone stared at the long-lost Malfoy family. The three held their heads high, acting with the dignity they were accustomed to.

"Ginny you found them!" Harry grinned as they exited the elevator. Many looked surprised at the sight: four identical, regal blondes and the small redhead leading them into the depths of the Auror's office.

"Miss Weasley, I dare say we should not have doubted you." Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, smiled at the young witch when everyone was seated around the long table in the conference room.

Hermione looked around at everyone. The usual Aurors were present: Proudfoot, Dawlish, Savage, and Williamson, along with a few others Hermione had only met a few times. Gawain Robards, head of the Auror's office, was seated at the head of the table, Minister Shacklebolt across from him. She felt uncomfortable, surrounded as they were by so many authoritative people. She could only imagine how the Malfoys were feeling.

Glancing to her left, she saw that Shacklebolt was watching the Malfoy family. His eyes moved from one to the next, pausing for a moment, until he eventually reached her. His brown eyes took in her new hair color and the close proximity of their four chairs. It was as if he saw her as one of them.

"Mr. Malfoy, I am relieved that you and your family are able to return to us in one piece," Kingsley said, reluctantly it seemed, taking his eyes off Hermione.

Lucius nodded in deference. "Thank you, Minister." He glanced around the table. To everyone but her and the two Malfoys beside him, Lucius Malfoy looked calm, collected, and perfectly at ease. She saw the tension in his hands and neck, the strain this was putting on him. The last time he had been around so many Aurors, they were deciding if he would be locked away in Azkaban for the rest of his life.

"You will be provided a temporary home while we finish sorting out this nasty business," Robards began. "We appreciate the patience it has taken to accommodate this new threat. If you have any questions, please, feel free to ask them now." No one spoke. Robards looked to Shacklebolt, who spoke.

"Dawlish will escort you to your temporary home. If you find that you need anything, one of our Aurors will be available to you at all times." Lucius Malfoy rose and bowed to the Minister, who bowed in return. It seemed that even now, the Malfoy name still had meaning to it.

"It was very nice to spend time with you, dear," Narcissa said to Hermione once they had all exited the conference room.

"I agree," Hermione replied, smiling. The two women hugged, both ignoring the strange looks the sight received from the Aurors around them.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," Lucius said once his wife had released her. "I appreciate the fervor with which you did your duty for us."

"My pleasure, Mr. Malfoy." She shook his hand, smiling. Slightly nervous, she then turned to the youngest Malfoy.

"Well Granger, see you around, yeah?" She was surprised, and he noticed. Using his patented Malfoy smirk, Draco tugged lightly on a strand of her long blonde hair.

"See you around Draco." She refrained from grinning at the astounded look on every face in the room. Draco nodded to Harry as he followed his parents out of the building.

"Well that was certainly… odd," Ginny commented as the four walked home. They had just seen the Malfoys out, and everyone but Hermione was still a little shocked.

"I'm just happy they're bloody well gone," Ron grumbled. Harry elbowed his friend in the side with a frown.

"They aren't that bad," he said. Ron harrumphed. "So Hermione how was it?" They all turned to look at their newly-returned friend.

"It was a long trip getting to them in the first place, but quite by chance I found them easily. It was not as easy convincing them to come with me, though," she said, remembering the standoff she and Draco had had in the living room of that rundown home. "I gave them a letter from the Minister, and all of a sudden, they were all ready to go to America with me."

"What did the letter say?" Ginny asked. Hermione shrugged.

"I don't have a clue, to be honest. I never read it." She still wondered what the letter had said that could make the Malfoy family go into hiding with a Muggle-born witch.

"We had some problems at first, but eventually, being in such close proximity all the time made us realize that we had to at least be civil with each other."

"That looked like a lot more than just _civil_," Harry commented slowly.

"Yes well, we had a few mishaps along the way, but they are, quite honestly, nice people. Once you get past everything they used to stand for, the attitudes, and the pureblood nonsense, the Malfoy family is as dysfunctional as any normal family."

"Yeah that may be true, but you _hugged_ Mrs. Malfoy," Ron sputtered finally, unable to wrap his mind around the picture. "And you were _joking_ and _laughing_ with the Ferret!"

"It's a little hard to hate people when you have to live with them, Ronald," Hermione replied sharply. "When you have to trust people implicitly with your life, you learn to accept them."

"Wow," was all Harry said. He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe that's why the assignment was given to you in the first place." They looked at him, confused. He shrugged.

"I mean, think about it. Not too long ago, Hermione wasn't exactly singing the Malfoy's praises. But now, they can all part ways in a friendly manner. Maybe the Minister thought that one of the best up-and-coming Aurors should be on good terms with a protected family."

"I guess it makes sense," Hermione admitted after they all let the idea stew for a minute. "Nothing except this experience would have made me like the Malfoys."

"Then his plan worked," Ginny said, hugging her friend. "I'm glad you're back, Hermione. It was getting a mite boring around here without you." Hermione grinned.

"I'm glad to be back, Gin." She sighed. "It'll be nice to be able to use magic again."

"That's right!" Harry exclaimed, grinning. "The Brightest Witch of our age was unable to use magic. How tragic!"

"Oh hush," Hermione said, laughing. Ginny bumped her shoulder against her boyfriend with a grin. "I did just fine without magic, if you must know."

"I'm sure you did, 'Mione. But this is where we must part ways." Ginny gave her brother and best friend a hug before linking arms with Harry. "Night, all!"

"G'night Gin," Ron said. Hermione waved and continued down the road with Ronald.

They walked in silence, but this time, it wasn't an awkward silence. It was simply a comfortable moment as they approached Hermione's apartment. Ron gave her a hug and reminded her that he was glad she was back in London. Hermione was glad he didn't give her another kiss; she didn't have the mental capacity tonight.

Entering the building, Hermione went to her door and slowly unlocked it. It was a little strange, being back. The cold had startled her at first, after being in such warm climates for so long. But, she _was_ happy to have her apartment to herself.

"Crooks, I'm home!" Ginny had taken care of her cat, so Hermione wasn't surprised to see that he had put on a little weight. The younger witch loved to pamper him. He streaked towards her, leaping into her arms with a yowl.

Dropping her jacket on the couch, Hermione walked around, taking in her small place. It was just as she'd left it. Looking around, she decided that tomorrow, she would go out and buy some plants for the front room. It would brighten up her apartment, she rationalized, pushing back the voice in her head that told her she wanted to go back.

"Crookshanks, what's wrong baby?" The cat was squirming in her arms. When he finally got free, he bolted under the couch. She tried to get him to come out, but he swiped at her hand when she reached for him. Pulling back, Hermione frowned. "What has gotten into you?"

Movement in her kitchen made Hermione freeze for a moment. If she could just get to her wand…

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Spinning around, Hermione came face to face with a Death Eater, armed with the mask, cloak, and all.

"What do you want?" she asked, slowly backing away. Her wand was in the pocket of her jacket. It was right there… He grabbed her arm as it reached back for the wand.

"Considering the time you spent with the Malfoys, I think you know what we want." It was only then that she noticed they were not the only two in the apartment. Two others were lurking around. One was another cloaked Death Eater, but the other… Hermione began to sweat, frightened. Fenrir Greyback came out of her bedroom. He had yet to look at her, but the mere sight of him made her want to crawl into a hole.

Crookshanks began to howl, scratching at the floor underneath the couch. Hermione could hear someone running towards her door, then Ronald's voice yelling to her. She couldn't speak, couldn't move. Even without a spell, Hermione was frozen. Ron began ramming his body against her door in an attempt to break it down.

"Tell the Malfoys we say hello," the Death Eater holding her said when Ron broke into the room. He aimed a spell at the Death Eater, but they both dissolved into the black smoke before it could hit them. Greyback snarled at Ron, who paled at the sight of the werewolf.

Hermione was whisked away in the arms of a Death Eater. She had no idea who they were, or what they wanted. All she knew was that they thought she was connected with the Malfoys.


	10. AN 2

Ok, so this is an Author's Note (I know, disappointing). But I promise I'll be updating soon! Anyways, I just wanted to make some comments, answer questions, that sort of thing. If you guys like this, feel free to review/comment/PM me more with whatever you have, and I'll be happy to answer any questions, concerns, or comments that your lovely minds come up with.

**To maggy black:** (I know this comment was from the first chapter, but I wanted to clear it up again, just in case other readers didn't get the previous message). I am fully aware that Igor Karkaroff died in the sixth book, but for all intents and purposes, for my story, he, along with other characters, did not die. Along the same lines, characters that did not die in the books written by the wonderful J.K. Rowling, might die here. Just a warning

**To RuyahBel:** like I said in my most recent post, I honestly am not that great at reading maps, and Google Maps on my laptop is sort of weird for some reason… Not to mention that all the foreign countries I use in the fanfic were chosen at random because they had interesting names and such. I thank you for correcting the facts for me though!

**To C-Dizzle: **I thought that by making Lucius and Narcissa a little OOC, it would bring more of the atmosphere that I was looking for into this fanfic. Also, I tried to keep up the attitude between Draco and Hermione that was present in the books during school as much as I could with my style and admittedly amateur writing. Thank you for the compliment though! They always encourage me to write more to what you guys want!

**To theNotebookintheUSA: **thank you for the compliment darlin', I look forward to writing the next few chapters just as much as you enjoy reading them

**To Guest: **I appreciate the decidedly excited compliment, and I will try my hardest not to let any of the chapters disappoint you And as for the end of the 5th chapter (6th on the fanfiction site), I loved writing it, and I'm so glad that you liked it!

**To Erica:**__thank you for reviewing and letting me know how you felt about the story! I always appreciate it

**To Guest**: I'm glad that you enjoyed the chapter and are keeping with my story.

**To Guest:** As I said in my recent update, if it were not for your reminder of Draco's reaction to finding himself and Hermione sharing a bed once more, I would have completely forgotten to write one… So you see, my dear readers, your reviews keep me sane and on task when I write.

Well that's all for now, but I truly appreciate everyone that has bothered to review and leave me their thoughts after reading. I know that there are more than 8 people reading and following this story though, so if the other 12 of you could drop a comment, I would love you for all eternity!

~Alex


	11. Chapter 9

**A/N: hey guys, sorry for taking so long to put up this next chapter. I'm not going to lie, I haven't had a lot of inspiration to write lately, and I don't want the story to become awful, so I just wasn't writing much. I also wanted to let you know that I start school again in 3 weeks, so the updates will be farther apart. Please review! **

Draco was sitting in a comfortable armchair reading the most recent copy of _The Daily Prophet_ that he could find. It was nice, being able to be connected to civilized society again. All three Malfoys agreed on that. But, not one of them dared to voice the thoughts that had been swirling around in their heads since their return to London.

Secretly, and Draco knew his parents felt the same, Draco wanted to go back to the way they had been before. He wanted the privacy, the comfort, of being on their own and not constantly viewed by the public. He wanted to be able to go one year without ending up in some kind of life-threatening peril.

He had just turned to the section of the paper discussing Death Eater artifacts popping up in strange places all throughout Muggle and Wizarding England, when one of the Aurors burst into the small room. Draco folded the paper and looked up at the man. Frowning, he noticed how frightened the young Auror looked.

"Out with it, man," he said, tired of waiting. The Auror looked nervous for a moment, but then he spoke.

"I'm afraid that your family will not be under our protection for the unforeseeable future," he rushed. Draco's frown deepened.

"Why the bloody hell not?" If this was something to do with their standing during the War… Draco was suddenly furious. _My family has endured enough! We stood before the Wizengamot, we passed all the tests and interviews... _His thoughts were cut off as the Auror continued.

"We have to return to Headquarters and help with the search." Draco got a strange feeling in his stomach then. He quickly realized it was dread; he didn't know why, but he knew he didn't want this man to continue speaking.

"What search?" he asked slowly. His hands gripped the armrests tight, the veins in his arms standing out and his knuckles sheet white.

"Hermione Granger, Sir," the young man said nervously, clearly noticing how tense Draco was. "She's been kidnapped."

Draco barely heard what the Auror said next. He hadn't realized how much he had come to care for the foolish, stubborn Muggle-born witch until just then. And he certainly didn't like how hard the loss hit him.

Rising quickly, he strode into the front room where his parents sat on the couch, both reading books the Aurors had brought for them. "Mother, Father, we're leaving. Now."

"Draco, what's going on?" Narcissa tossed her book aside, unconcerned with saving her page. She knew the look in her son's eyes; something was awfully, dreadfully wrong.

"Sir, are you sure?" Ginny looked at her superior, concerned. Proudfoot nodded, his pacing never stopping.

"We can't rule out anything, Miss Weasley. If Ron here says he heard the Death Eater say something about the Malfoys, then they need to be brought in and questioned, immediately."

Harry nodded, understanding the logic behind his boss's words. "I'll go Floo over to their place and tell them what's going on." He rose and began to walk out of the room.

"No need Potter, we're already here." Draco Malfoy, followed by his parents, strode into the conference room. "How can we help." He didn't say it as so much of a question, as he did an order to use their assistance.

"We don't need your help, _Malfoy_," Ron sneered, glaring at his old schoolmate. Malfoy glared back at him.

"I'm not going to argue with you Weasel, because that would waste precious time." He turned to Proudfoot. "What do we know so far?"

"We aren't sure who the Death Eaters are, only that they are using Fenrir Greyback as an accomplice." Everyone in the room noticeably reacted to the use of the hated werewolf's name.

"_Greyback_ is involved in the kidnapping of an Auror?" Lucius was astounded. He had only ever recalled the revolting werewolf being interested in missions involving young children, not battle-hardened witches.

Harry nodded. "It would seem that way," he said, his voice tight. He hated that they had just gotten Hermione back from a dangerous situation, and now she was involuntarily thrown right back in.

"What exactly did they say?" Lucius Malfoy was wasting no time, and Harry appreciated that.

"I heard Crookshanks, Hermione's cat, howling like the Grim was after him, so I ran back to her apartment. When I finally got the door open, one of the Death Eaters was holding on tight to her arm and I heard him say, 'tell the Malfoys we say hello'. Then, both of them flew out of there with Hermione. Greyback growled at me, and I could only hit him with one spell before he got away."

"At least he's injured then," Draco said. "Good work, Weasley." Ron looked at him, surprised. In all his years knowing the Malfoy family, he had never thought to hear those words from a single one of them, least of all from Draco.

"Draco," Narcissa began slowly. Everyone turned to look at the woman who was staring off into space, her countenance a thoughtful one. "Don't you have a few… _friends_ who would be of some assistance in a situation such as this one?"

Draco didn't understand her meaning at first, but when he caught on, the grin he sported was both hopeful and impossibly evil at the same time. Turning, his robes billowing out behind him, Draco Malfoy Apparated out of the Ministry.

While he was gone, off doing something that Narcissa would not voice just yet, the rest of the rescue party began going through the list of Death Eaters who were still alive, and some they weren't sure were alive or not.

"Malfoy, you can't be serious!" The other man looked at the shorter, blonde man in front of him.

"I'm dead serious mate. I'm calling in that favor." Draco gave him a knowing look. "Or are you going to take back your promise?"

The man snorted and rolled his eyes, remembering how adamant Draco Malfoy was about upholding promises. "All right, I'm in. Let's go already, before everyone gets back."

"Good." Draco grinned at him while he pulled a piece of paper from a pad on the refrigerator. Taking one moment to write a short note telling the other occupants of the house he would be back later, the two men were out of the house in minutes. "We just have a few more stops to make first."

"Mr. Malfoy, where has your son gone off to?" Proudfoot asked of the elder Malfoy. Lucius shook his head, looking at his wife.

"I could not rightly tell you. My son will be back shortly though, I imagine."

And sure enough, Draco walked into the room not twenty minutes later. Following close behind him were three people Ron and Harry had never expected to see again.

"Mr. Zabini, Ms. Parkinson, Mr. Nott, may I inquire as to your presence here?" Minister Shacklebolt asked of the three newcomers.

Theodore Nott grinned and glanced at his oldest friend. "Draco popped in and called on that favor I've owed him since our school days." Pansy laughed, a surprisingly nice sound from a woman the Gryffindors recalled as a cruel, heartless girl.

"I didn't owe the prick any favors, but when he asks just _oh so nicely_, why, how can I refuse?" She batted her long black eyelashes at Draco mockingly. The blonde man smirked and bumped her shoulder with his.

"I told her I'd babysit her brats sometime," he clarified to the confused crowd. "And as for Zabini, well…"

"I just like to get into some trouble every now and then," the other wizard admitted with a shrug. "And with Malfoy, I'm bound to get into something nasty."

The three Gryffindors looked at the group of Slytherins apprehensively. Of course, the old prejudices playing a large factor, they didn't trust the four snakes. But in this instance, they might have to. For Hermione's sake, the Slytherins and the Gryffindors would work together.

"And can we trust your friends?" Proudfoot asked, voicing what Harry, Ron, and Ginny didn't want to say.

Malfoy nodded. His friends might not be loyal to the Golden Trio, but they were loyal to _him_. He trusted these three with his life, and vice versa. The four had been quite a force to reckon with back in the day.

"Can we get this show on the road?" Theo asked, a blonde brow rising over a tanned face. The man crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. "I have a wife and five kids to get home to, if you don't mind."

"_Five_?" Ginny blurted out, incredulous.

Blaise grinned at her, winking. "If I'm not mistaken, you're the youngest of about a hundred Weasleys, so his family is not one to gawk at." Ginny and Ron blushed, liking the easygoing way of the tall Slytherin.

"I agree with tall, dark, and handsome," Parkinson said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder to indicate Blaise. "We should really get going."

"And do you know where we should be going _to_?" Harry asked.

"Well, if there are Death Eaters involved, there are only so many places they could be," Theo explained. "And Draco said Greyback is in on this as well, so that narrows it down even more."

"The werewolf likes to stay near water," Lucius added.

"Why?" Ginny wondered aloud, not getting the connection.

"Because kids like to swim," Theo said. Ginny blanched, putting a hand to her mouth to stifle the sound of disgust bubbling in her throat.

The Slytherins spent the next ten minutes eliminating parts of the world where they would not find the Death Eaters and Hermione. Occasionally, the Aurors would add what they knew, but mostly, they just listened as the old friends worked quickly to narrow down where they should look.

"We don't have much time," Ginny said suddenly, her face white. Everyone looked at her. Sweeping her eyes around the room and settling on Draco, Ginny was frightened. "Hermione starts her cycle in two days." None of the men understood her reference, but Pansy and Narcissa paled as well.

"Fenrir won't be able to resist," Pansy whispered, her eyes wide. They all quickly got back to work, more driven than ever to find Hermione.

Finally, they were down to three locations. Draco and his friends were looking over a map of England piled on top of maps of other countries in Europe. Colwyn Bay, Lancaster, and Aberdeen were their focuses, but Malfoy had a feeling that they were missing something… something important.

They shifted the map around, trying to get a better look at the places they thought the Death Eaters would hide. Suddenly, it was right in front of Draco's face. He blinked as it hit him.

"Edinburgh," he choked out, remembering what Granger had told him. What she didn't know was that he had been aware of what was going on the whole time her potion had been affecting him.

Lucius and Narcissa looked at him. "Are you sure?" his mother asked, wringing her hands. He nodded, not liking what he'd said any more than they did.

"What's in Edinburgh?" Harry asked. The Malfoys glanced at each other.

"An old estate of my sister's," Narcissa said. "She left it to her husband for his personal use. He and his brother inhabited it for a while during the War."

"Why would they bring her to the old Lestrange estate?"

"I have a feeling," Draco admitted. Ron snorted, earning a glare from Zabini.

"Draco's gut saved our asses too many times to count," Pansy snapped, narrowing her eyes at the Gryffindors. Theo and Blaise nodded in agreement.

"If Malfoy says they're in Edinburgh, then we should go to Edinburgh," Ginny said after a moment. Everyone looked at her, surprised. She shrugged. "It's the best lead we've got, and frankly, they seem to know something we don't. I trust them."

Proudfoot looked to Kingsley for an answer to the silent question. Do they trust Malfoy's gut? Or do they waste more time on places that _might_ have answers?

"We'll go in groups of four. Since you seem to know the estate Mrs. Malfoy, would you be so kind as to give the rest of us some insight?" The witch nodded and began explaining the complicated infrastructure of the building, telling them about all the winding paths and hidden rooms that she could remember.

"I'll take Potter, Parkinson, and Weaselette with me," Draco said firmly. "Blaise and Father will go with Weasley and that Auror with the freckles standing outside. Mother, Theo, and the other two Aurors make up the last group."

"And why should we do what _you_ say, Malfoy?" Ron spat, unable to hold back his anger at being ordered around by his blonde nemesis.

"Because that is _exactly_ how I would have separated you," Proudfoot said, cutting off Draco's reply. "Now get going. We only have so much time, and I don't plan on getting too close to the deadline."

Looking at each other, the three groups made peace and Apparated out. Draco and Theo had both been taken to the estate during the War for a meeting with Draco's aunt Bellatrix and some other inner-circle Death Eaters, so the two young wizards side-Apparated three other people. The elder Malfoys side-Apparated Ron and the Auror a few seconds later.

"God be with them," Kingsley said after the rescue party had left.

Proudfoot shook his head. "They're going to need a lot more than prayer to help them get Granger out of there in time."


	12. Chapter 10

**Here's the next chapter! I know that it won't make a lot of sense right now, which is unfortunate because I don't want my lovely readers to be confused, but it will all come together in later chapters. Promise. Don't forget to review at the end! It makes life easier for everyone involved if you do Enjoy!**

Draco looked around the forest, searching for something, anything, that would prove that the Death Eaters had taken Hermione here. Obviously, they had covered their tracks well, leaving Draco and his group nothing to find. He huffed quietly in frustration, aggravated that whoever had taken Hermione had thought to bring her here, to this god awful place.

"What's our next move?" Parkinson whispered, glancing around her. Harry and Ginny both trained their eyes on Draco, waiting for his say-so.

"_Quietly_ move forward. And watch out for any traps. This place was a fucking hellhole back in the day, so I wouldn't be surprised if they left a few nasty tricks for anyone passing through." The three nodded and they continued on as a group, watching each other's backs and scanning their surroundings for anything unpleasant.

They tread softly when they entered the rundown mansion, wands at the ready. Draco stopped them at an intersection of hallways, trying to remember which way to the dungeons. After a few moments of deliberation, he decided that left was their best bet. Sure enough, there was a set of stairs winding downward not far from there. Careful not to make any sound as they tiptoed down the grimy stone steps, they finally found themselves in the antechamber of the dungeons.

Harry held up a hand, signaling them to stop and listen. All four trained their ears on the four different passageways, trying to detect any signs that would tell them where Granger was. Ginny's ears perked up at something and she nodded them in the direction of the northern cells.

Picking their way slowly through the rows of cells and chains, the group looked in every one, hoping to find Hermione before someone else found them. Draco stopped, confused, when they came to another four-way split. They didn't have the time to check each one together, so they would have to split up, as much as he hated the idea. Pointing at each person and then to a tunnel, Draco divided them up before continuing on the path in front of him. He really hoped Hermione was down here.

Hermione yanked one more time at the chains that bound her arms to the wall above her head. Her wrists were sore and bleeding, the shackles purposely too small. She tried not to think of smaller people hanging from these walls. Children didn't belong down here.

She tried to piece together what had happened so far in an attempt to make sense of what was going on. She still didn't know who the Death Eaters were; they hadn't visited since leaving her here the night before. The only thing she knew for sure was that Greyback was involved. She had sincerely hoped that he had died in the Final Battle at Hogwarts. Unfortunately for her and most likely many other children, he had survived. She paled when she remembered how much larger he had looked in her living room than when she had last seen the werewolf.

"Ok, so they think I'm with the Malfoys," she muttered to herself, a habit that her friends found quite annoying. "They knew where I would be. They knew when we returned…" Hermione suddenly had the horrifying thought that someone in the Ministry was a spy. She shook it away, not wishing to go down that path just yet.

And then suddenly, someone was standing right in front of her. Lifting her head up sharply from where it had been resting on her chest, she found herself looking at the oddly familiar pug nose.

"Parkinson?" This Hell had just become worse than she had imagined. Pansy Parkinson _hated_ her.

"Hello Granger," she whispered, flashing her perfectly white teeth in a quick smile. "Let's get you out of here, yeah?"

"Wait, what?" Hermione was thoroughly confused. "You aren't here to torture me?"

Pansy frowned. "Give me some credit, Granger. I haven't tortured anyone in _ages_. And besides, that would be counterproductive to our rescue if I injured you."

"_Our_ rescue? Who else is with you?" Pansy started ticking names off her fingers one by one, surprising Hermione with a few of them.

"Now no more talk, let's get the fuck out of here. This place is disgusting," she said, wrinkling her nose. Whipping her wand out of the sleeve of her robe, Parkinson blasted the chains, breaking them just above where they connected to the shackles.

"We'll deal with these later," Hermione said, shoving her former classmate out of the cell. "Let's just leave."

When they reached the junction where the group had left each other, the two women found their friends waiting. Harry and Ginny grinned at her, enveloping her in a quick hug. She missed the look of relief that passed over Draco's face, but Pansy saw it. She put that look away into the back of her devious mind for later.

"How do we get out of this place?" Hermione asked as they hurried back up the stairs. Draco put a finger to his lips, effectively shushing her. She snapped her mouth shut and followed him down a long hallway. Hermione expected a Death Eater or two to be waiting for them behind some corner or hidden passageway, but they saw no one, even after exiting the mansion.

Once they were back in the forest, they waited for their comrades to join them. Still wrapped in Harry's arms, Hermione watched Draco tap his wand to the silver ring around his left index finger. The green gem eyes of the snake shifted and looked up at him. He brought the ring to his lips, and Hermione watched as the snake's mouth opened and a tiny fang pierced Malfoy's lip, drawing a small drop of blood. To the Gryffindor's surprise, the green eyes turned a deep, blood red and the snake became a ring once more.

"What did you just do, exactly?" Ginny asked, nervously glancing at the ring.

"We all have one. There are four emeralds on each, one for me and each of my parents, and one for my future wife. Since I was the one who gave blood, my parent's rings will show them to where I am. And once they're on the right path, their gems will glow on both my ring and theirs."

"That's intriguing," Hermione said, instinctively reaching out to touch it. Draco pulled his hand away and frowned at her.

"It'll bite you, Granger." She blinked in surprise and brought her hand back to her side. She would have to question him later about the inner workings of his strange jewelry.

Not long after, they were joined by everyone else. Ron smiled at Hermione and gave her a hug, but she managed to inconspicuously pull away before he could kiss her. She didn't want to deal with that at the moment.

"We can all give our thanks that Miss Granger is safe back in London," Blaise pointed out, preventing anyone else from wasting time. The group nodded and one by one, they all Apparated away from Edinburgh and back to the dark, dreary streets of London.

"You cannot be serious," Hermione sputtered, looking at the men in front of her incredulously. Proudfoot sighed and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Unfortunately, we are Hermione. It has been deemed unsafe for you to be in any form of contact with the Malfoys at the present time, due to recent events."

"But they weren't involved!" If someone had told her before this mission that she would be defending the Malfoys, she would have laughed in their face. But now, things were different, and she didn't quite know how to feel about that.

"We know that, Hermione," the Minister said, trying to hold back a smile at the witch's changed attitude towards the blonde family. "But being around them put you in danger, and we cannot risk that again." Hermione opened her mouth to object, but Proudfoot cut her off.

"I know that you have formed something of a friendship with the Malfoys, but for the moment, we need you to keep your distance from them. That means no contact at all."

"That _is_ an order, Miss Granger," Kingsley stated as Hermione rose to leave. She paused for a moment before nodding at the men and exiting the room.

"I never thought I would say this, but we need to make sure she complies," Proudfoot said, looking at where Hermione had just been. Kingsley nodded in agreement.

"Times have certainly changed."

"Those are very… interesting orders," Narcissa commented dryly once the Auror was finished speaking. He looked a tad nervous. _Must be new_, Draco thought with a smirk.

"I… I'm sorry ma'am," he stuttered, looking around the room, his eyes anywhere but on her person. Narcissa and Draco both refrained from rolling their eyes.

"I'm not going to turn you to stone," Mrs. Malfoy snapped suddenly. Draco hadn't known that his mother even knew who Medusa was, let alone that she could turn people to stone with her eyes.

"So what you're telling us is that we can't have _any_ contact with Granger," Draco reiterated, checking for a loophole somewhere.

"That's correct, sir," the Auror-in-training said.

"Alright, well that will be all, then," Draco said, dismissing the shorter man. The Auror nodded quickly and practically ran from the parlor. Narcissa waited until the door was closed behind him before turning on her son.

"Who am I going to talk to now?" she complained half-heartedly. Draco pretended to be offended.

"Well, Mother, if I am such a bore to you, I suppose I will just have to go and live with Pansy and be her permanent babysitter." He folded his arms over his chest for good measure.

"Sure you will, dear," his mother said condescendingly, patting his cheek affectionately. "And I'll run off and join the Wizarding Circus while it's still in London."

"Well then Father is going to be quite lonely with the both of us gone," Draco teased. Narcissa laughed, the sound tinkling through the large room and echoing off the high ceiling.

"What's this I hear about staying away from Miss. Granger?" Lucius was frowning when he entered the room, surprised to see his wife and son laughing and joking. The two sobered up instantly when they noticed the seriousness of Lucius' demeanor.

"It's a rule that the Ministry has put in place today," Narcissa explained to her husband. His frown deepened, pronouncing the lines on his pale forehead.

"Whatever for? We haven't done anything to the silly girl." Draco nodded in agreement.

"They think that because of recent events, it would be best if Granger stayed away from us." Draco looked at his father. "They thought she was one of us," he reminded his parents. They both nodded tightly and left the parlor, off to find things to distract them.

Draco, on the other hand, went right to the front door, careful to put on a Glamour to mask his patrician features and bright blonde hair. Stepping out into the gray afternoon, he was glad it wasn't raining while he walked to where he recalled Granger saying her apartment was. He thought it best to pay her a visit.

"This is ridiculous, Crooks," Hermione complained to her cat. The orange fur-ball seemed to nod in agreement with its master. "Not letting me see them because of some stupid little night." Hermione was desperately overlooking the fact that she could have been killed because of her affiliations with the Malfoy family. She rubbed her wrists unconsciously, having been freed from the shackles only moments after returning to the Ministry of Magic.

"Coming," she called when she heard the knock on her front door. Looking through the peephole, she frowned, pausing for a moment before cautiously opening the door.

"Took you long enough," the man muttered, walking right past her into her flat. "Do you have anything hot to eat? It's freezing out there."

"Draco, you're going to have to do better than that if you want to fool _anybody_," Hermione advised. Malfoy smirked.

"Got me past the guard outside, didn't it?" Hermione shook her head, tempted to let Kingsley know that Malfoy had easily slipped past the guard that was supposed to be protecting her.

"Yes well, we'll have to look into that, won't we?" Hermione went into the kitchen to make them both a bowl of chicken noodle soup, straight from a can.

"This is stupid," Draco called from the front room. Hermione chuckled to herself as she thought that that was the least eloquent the blonde had sounded in years.

"I agree, but there isn't much we can do about it. And you can't keep tricking my guards and sneaking into my house, either." Malfoy shrugged and threw her a lopsided grin. Besides when he was drugged and delirious, this was the most relaxed Hermione had ever seen the man.

"Quit staring Granger, or I'll start to think that my incredible beauty has overcome you," he quipped, breaking the moment. Hermione shook her head and brought the two bowls of soup into the TV room. Draco was sprawled out on her couch, clearly at ease in her tiny home.

"Malfoy, if you were as irresistible as you think you are, we would have had problems living together for so long," she pointed out as she placed the food before him. She purposely neglected to mention the number of times recently that she had found herself looking at the Slytherin when his back was turned.

"Oh please, I know you were watching me like a hawk the entire time," he retorted playfully, reaching over to tug on a strand of her hair. "When are you going to dye this back?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm not sure. I thought about letting it grow out naturally, but that might take too long. We'll see, I suppose."

Draco sat back again. "Well, I like your hair brown, for what it's worth."

Hermione raised a brow. "Did Draco Malfoy just give me a compliment in my own home?" He rolled his eyes.

"Don't make a big fuss, Granger. I already told you I prefer brunettes anyways." She grinned.

"Ah, so you _like_ me, is that it?" she teased, bumping his shoulder with hers. He glanced down at her out of the corner of his eye and smirked.

"You _wish_ I liked you, Hermione. It would be like a life-long fantasy come true for you."

"No, not life-long," Hermione joked drawing a full grin from her companion. "Now eat your soup before it gets cold."

"Yes ma'am," he said, saluting her. She elbowed him in response, trying to keep the silly smile off her face for more than a few seconds.

"So… what are we going to do about this new rule?" Draco put his spoon down a few minutes later and frowned, deep in thought.

"Well, I could always kidnap you and steal you away to my house," he suggested. She wrinkled her nose.

"I don't think my friends can handle anymore kidnappings right now," she pointed out.

"If you want, I can keep sneaking over here to see you," he said softly, as if afraid of her answer.

Hermione didn't know what to say at first. Her once-enemy had just offered to break the law to come and visit her whenever she wanted. What did _that_ mean?

"It _means_, that I would miss you," he said, making her embarrassingly aware that she had said that last part out loud. "I mean, Mother would miss you. She's come to enjoy your company, you know."

"You said that _you_ would miss me, Draco," Hermione said quietly, turning to look at him. He didn't meet her eyes, looking straight ahead as he contemplated what to say next.

"Can you get on the roof?" he asked suddenly, changing the subject. Hermione pretended not to notice how her chest felt that he hadn't answered her.

"Yes, from the top floor." He grabbed her hand in his and dragged her towards her front door.

"Let's go, then." They climbed the flights of stairs until Hermione stopped them, unlocking a metal door with a silver key attached to her house key.

The door opened and revealed a large, flat roof. To the right, facing the street, was a small greenhouse filled with blooming flowers and potted plants. There were a few deck chairs off to the side, looking out over the busy road below, a small circular table between them. The sun was just setting, throwing everything into a red and orange hue.

"Are you just going to stand there all night?" Draco walked forward, glancing back at her over his shoulder. He wandered into the greenhouse, looking around him at all the different colors and stages of plant life. Plucking a violet iris from one of the pots, he held it carefully behind his back and went to where Granger was lounging on one of the chairs.

Standing behind her, he pulled her hair back and placed the short stem behind her ear. The soft curls fell through his fingers as he released her hair, cascading down her back in a blonde wave.

"Thank you," Hermione said, reaching up and gently touching the flower in her hair. She was glad that he couldn't see the blush creeping her cheeks. She hadn't realized that Draco had cast a warming charm upon them until suddenly the cold wasn't penetrating her thin jacket. He sat in the chair beside her, crossing his long legs at the ankle. Draco closed his eyes and intertwined his fingers behind his head, thoroughly relaxed up here on her rooftop.

"How are you, Granger?" he asked without looking at her. She turned to search his face, slightly confused with what was going on.

"I'm fine," she said after a moment. He cracked an eyelid and watched her silently for a few seconds.

"No, how are you doing, Granger," he asked again, making it clear that he wasn't just talking about how her day was going.

Hermione looked down at her hands in her lap, worrying her bottom lip as she thought of what to tell him. Did she reveal how afraid she had been, down in that dungeon again? Or how thinking of her friends had kept her calm? Of the moment when she realized that she considered him one of her close friends, as his pale face swam before her eyes while she hung helplessly from the damp wall?

"I'm ok now, really," she said at last, her voice almost a whisper, betraying how she truly felt. Her mind was whirring, deciding what was best to divulge to this hothead she had befriended.

"Did you know that I can tell when you're lying to me?" Hermione hadn't known that, but she wasn't surprised that he could. He was too perceptive sometimes, like right now.

"I'm tired," she admitted, staring up at the stars that were starting to shine in the blackness of the sky. "I'm just _so_ tired all the time now. I have nightmares sometimes, and I can't seem to wake myself up until they've run their course."

Draco was silent as he too looked up at the stars. She could only tell that something was on his mind because of the way a muscle in his jaw was ticking. Hermione waited for him to say something, anything. His silence made her nervous and confused. She hadn't thought he cared so much.

"Let's go back inside," Draco suggested finally, rising from his chair. He held a hand out to her and pulled her to her feet when she took it. They were standing so close together that Hermione could feel his warm breath on her face before he took a step back and turned to walk towards the door.

Back in her apartment, Draco remained silent for another half hour, his face stony while he sat on the couch. Trying not to think too hard about what could be going on behind his unreadable face, Hermione made herself a cup of tea and sat on the opposite end of the couch. Taking the remote, she flicked the television on, turning it to an animated movie made in America, The Lion King. It had just started, so Hermione sat back and watched the little lion cubs play and get into all kinds of mischief while her companion sat quietly beside her.

"Why is that dark lion so strange?" he asked twenty minutes into the movie, showing her that he had been watching the entire time. She shrugged.

"Because he wants the power that his brother has and will pass on to his son. So he has to get his nephew out of the way before he can become king," she explained, not sure why he was asking.

"Who wants that kind of power?" he muttered. She looked at him, confused. "Only pain comes with the amount of power that little lion will one day have. Why is he so eager to have it all on his shoulders?" She had a feeling they weren't just talking about the movie anymore.

"Because he doesn't know any better," she replied softly, her eyes trained on his face in the dark. "All he sees is his father and the good his father does every day. He hasn't been taught that the responsibility is larger than just being able to do whatever you want."

Hermione thought of the way Draco and Lucius reminded her of the lion cub and his father. Like the cub, Draco was expected to act a certain way, and was raised with particular rules and habits that others around him were not.

"Well someone should tell the little brat before he finds out the hard way," Draco muttered. They only had to wait a few minutes before Mufasa was killed by the wildebeest herd. Draco snorted in an 'I told you so' way.

They finished the movie in silence, only moving once the end credits were rolling across the screen. Hermione stretched her legs and a small sound of content escaped her lips, thoroughly embarrassing her. Draco either hadn't heard it or pretended not to notice as he rose languidly from the couch.

"It's late," she said, glancing at the digital clock in the kitchen. Draco nodded and ran a hand through his hair. "You don't have to go, if you don't want to, I mean. I have an extra room."

She didn't know what she was hoping he would say until he opened his mouth and said "alright." Hermione went into the linen closet and took some fresh sheets and a blanket into the room Ginny usually occupied, and with the help of Malfoy, made up the queen-sized bed.

"I have some extra pajama pants, if you want them," she offered, thinking of the large pair she kept here just in case.

"Sure, that'll be fine," he said, taking the bright red pants from her, looking warily at them. "I'm not partial to the color, though."

Hermione smiled. "Neither am I, honestly. But they were on sale, and I figured I might need them one day." Draco quirked a brow and she blushed, following his train of thought. "You never know."

"I'm not judging, Granger," he said with a smirk in her direction. "Besides, I know that this is all a ploy to get me to sleep with you again." He transfigured the pants into another pair in a dark grey color instead of the horrid bright red.

"Mhmm, you caught me," Hermione agreed wryly. "I just can't go on living if you aren't here."

"I knew it," he drawled, undoing the buttons on his shirt one by one. Hermione had to admit that the hard planes of his chest that she could see made her want to see more. He either didn't notice her looking, or he didn't care. Either way, Hermione was going to take full advantage. That is, until he unbuckled his belt and began sliding his pants zipper down.

"I'll just leave you to it, then," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. Malfoy just nodded and continued undressing in front of her, never breaking eye contact, as if he knew the confusing thoughts running rampant through her mind. It was very unnerving, knowing that he could practically see what she was thinking while he stripped himself. She spun around and left the room, hoping she didn't look like she was running.

Only when she was shut in her bedroom next door did she let go of the breath she hadn't been aware she was holding. Leaning against the door, Hermione quickly chalked it all up to her lack of a sex life and the fact that he was still ridiculously gorgeous.

"Yes, that's it," she muttered, ignoring the voice in her head laughing at her knowingly. Crawling under her blankets, Hermione fell asleep almost immediately, aware that right behind the adjacent wall was her once enemy, now friend, who had the best body she'd seen on a man since… well, since she'd accidentally spied him coming out of the Quidditch locker room after a game back in school.


	13. Chapter 11

**I am so sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up! I just moved back into my college, and everything has been so hectic preparing for the move, and I've been working since I got here. But I made sure to write this on my down time, so here you go! Read and review my lovelies!**

"Did you have any nightmares?" Draco asked Hermione over breakfast the next morning. Hermione instantly wished she had never told him what happened to her when she closed her eyes.

"No," she replied simply, hoping he didn't ask any more questions. She may not have had nightmares, but that didn't stop her from waking up frequently in the middle of the night and feeling like someone was in her bedroom with her.

He just nodded though, seemingly content with her single-worded answer. He popped another bite of omelet into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully before washing it down with a sip of coffee. Draco pushed his sleeve back and glanced at the watch on his wrist.

"I have to go meet with Mother," he said, standing abruptly. He collected his jacket from the front room and strode to the door, putting a Glamour on himself at the last minute.

"Draco," she called out suddenly. He stopped with his hand on the doorknob and looked over his shoulder at her. "You're welcome to come back anytime." She forced herself to meet his eyes, nervous that he might sneer at her, discontinuing their fragile friendship.

"I will," he said after a moment of thought, and then he was gone, walking out into the rainy London afternoon.

The guard posted quite obviously outside the apartment building didn't even glance in his direction as Draco walked purposefully down the street. He breathed a sigh of relief and slowed his pace when he felt he was far enough away that he couldn't be seen from her block.

"Silly Granger," he muttered under his breath. He was having trouble understanding what was going through the Gryffindor's mind when she had invited him to come whenever he wanted. She confused him with the ability she had to be nice to him, despite their colorful past. And when she smiled at him like she had earlier… There were too many conflicting emotions running through Draco for him to piece together what all of this meant.

Yes, the raging elitist, blood-purity shit was a thing of the past. But they had never been friends. _Up until recently_, he reminded himself, thinking about their time in hiding. They had gotten along fairly well at the end.

"Your Glamour really sucks," Pansy Parkinson said, linking her arm through his as she caught up to him on the busy sidewalk.

"Thanks Pans, that makes a bloke feel real good about himself," he practically snapped. She started, taking her arm from his. Her face grew stony, her eyes narrowed as she stared up at him.

"Just because you can't control yourself around an unsuspecting bushy-haired Gryffindor doesn't mean you have to take your frustration out on me," she said in a clipped tone. He grabbed her shoulder just as she began to walk away from him.

"Pansy, I'm sorry." He ran a hand through his hair as they made their way to a park bench in a nearby playground. "I didn't mean to snap, really."

She sighed. "Drake, you really need to figure your shit out. First, you're horrified that you had to spend more than a few hours with Granger, and now you and your parents can't stay away from her." She had forced him into telling her everything as soon as they had returned the night before. Luckily, Blaise had already left for his flat and nightly drink, so only Pansy had been witness to his troubled mind.

"I know," he sighed. Running a hand almost violently through his hair, he glanced down at the beautiful witch at his side. _You should have been with her_, a small voice whispered to him. He shook it off. He and Pansy had decided that while they had definitely enjoyed themselves during school, they were not meant for each other long term. She deserved someone who would be there for her, and he could not promise that he could be that person.

"What's going on with her, anyways?" Parkinson asked, bringing Draco out of his reveries of the old days.

"Scars from the war, just like the rest of us," he replied quietly. With Pansy, there was no need to further explain. If anyone knew about the horrors of the War, it was her.

"You know, I still wake up in the middle of the night sometimes," she admitted, as if she had read his mind. "I can never remember why, though. It bothers me that I can't remember my dreams, but I know that it's for the best."

"Pansy, if you _ever_ need _anything_, I'm here. I'm always here." She smiled and pecked him on the cheek.

"I know you are, Drake. Alan doesn't understand, but he tries." Her husband was an American, and had not been involved in the War.

"That's why you have us." He hugged her close, unable to not feel sorry for the witch who essentially had no one at home to truly comfort her the way she needed.

"I have to get back now, but if you need to talk about anything, you know where I am," Pansy said, slipping out of his embrace. "Talk to Blaise, I'm sure he can help you with whatever you're having trouble with."

"See you soon," he murmured, kissing her on the cheek as she walked behind a dumpster and Apparated back to her home, her husband, and her children. Draco suddenly wished, for a split second, that he could do the same.

"So, what can I do for you, my little friend?" Blaise asked, purposely patronizing Draco. The blonde sneered at his oldest friend, whipping out his wand.

"I'm only a few inches shorter than you, idiot. Not that any of that makes any difference. I can still _destroy_ you in a duel." Blaise just shrugged, unconcerned with the fact.

"Anyways, I just spoke with Pansy," Draco said, trying to bring them on topic.

Blaise frowned. "How's she doing? She seems… quieter."

"She has nightmares still," Malfoy said quietly. Blaises' expression softened at the idea that his friend was still stuck in the past. "She swears she doesn't remember any of them, but I'm not so inclined as to believe her."

"I'll drop in on her later," Blaise promised, his brow furrowed as he thought about their female friend. "So, what's on your mind?" Draco looked at him, amused.

"How do you know that's not all I came to talk about?" Blaise returned his questioning look.

"How can you still think that you can pull anything over on me?" he returned. "Drake, we've been best friends since we were eight. I know when you're hiding something." Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair, a habit he found himself doing a lot lately.

"Granger," he said simply. He knew that Blaise was smart enough to catch on with no further explanation.

The Italian nodded, remaining silent while he poured them both a glass of Fire Whiskey. Handing one to Draco, Blaise took a seat opposite his friend. Waving a hand at Draco to continue, Blaise sipped on his drink.

"I'm not sure how to handle the situation anymore," Draco admitted, both to himself and to his friend. "Sure, at first it was just like we were back in school again. I would torment her, she would annoy me, and we would fight." He stopped, glaring into the brown liquid in his hands. "But now it's more complicated than that. We get along now."

"And that's a problem?" Blaise looked slightly amused. "How is getting along with the Golden Girl complicated?"

"Because I'm not quite sure how to deal with it. Blaise, I _slept at her house_ last night." At that, the tall man's brows practically disappeared into his hair.

"Did you shag her?" he asked bluntly, never one for beating around the bush. Draco shook his head, the idea a strange one. Him and Granger? As pretty as he had to admit she had become, he still didn't think he could ever.

"So what's the issue? You slept there, didn't shag her, and she hasn't sent Potter after you for anything. I don't see the problem here." Draco frowned at his best friend.

"It's just so… _weird_," the blonde admitted, not quite sure how to express himself. "I'm just so used to arguing, and fighting, and _hating_ her. This… this _friendship_ is too strange."

"I understand mate, I really do." Blaise shrugged and gave Draco a wry smile. "I had the biggest crush on the Weaselette in school. If we were ever _nice_ to each other, I agree, it would be weird."

"You had a crush on a _Weasley_?" Draco asked, the amusement barely hidden. Zabini glared at him.

"You're being nice to Granger," he threw back, smirking when Draco winced and nodded his head in acceptance. "So, what _are_ you going to do? I hear you're banned from seeing her."

"I Glamoured myself," Draco muttered, running a hand through his already tousled hair. "The guard isn't the smartest, I'll admit. But I'm not the only one who's not happy with this arrangement. Mother and Father were planning something when I left yesterday."

"You can't be serious," Blaise scoffed, not believing for one second that the elder Malfoys actually _wanted_ to see Granger. Narcissa, maybe, if he tried really hard to picture it. But Lucius? Never.

"I am. They grew to like her, thanks to me." He continued when he saw the raised brow. "I wasn't the greatest charge Granger had ever had, and Mother and Father felt that it was their duty to protect her, from me essentially." Blaises' face cracked into a huge grin.

"That is bloody brilliant," Blaise said between bouts of laughter. Draco sat, cradling his drink and waiting Blaise out. Finally, his friend sat down across from him, his expression serious once more.

"I need to get back to my parents." Blaise nodded and watched his friend finish off the glass of whiskey. "I'll keep in touch this time," he said, smirking. Blaise snorted and grinned at his blonde friend.

"You better. If you leave me alone to deal with Nott ever again, I'll kill you myself."

"Duly noted." He sighed and was about to run his hand through his hair again, but caught himself. "Thanks for the drink."

"Anytime Drake. Feel free to drop by whenever." Draco nodded and let himself out of Blaises' bachelor pad. It had begun to rain at some point during his talk with Blaise, but strangely, Draco still felt the need to walk the few blocks back to the house the Ministry had given him.

By the time he opened the door into the front room, he was soaked through, his blonde hair plastered to the side of his head. Trying to keep most of the water from his robes off of the rugs, he made his way up the stairs and to his bedroom on the left. Stripping off the wet clothes, he hopped into the shower. Leaning his forehead against the cold tiles, he let the hot water run down his back. He really wasn't sure what to do about the situation that he suddenly found himself in.

Sighing, Draco finished his shower and got dressed. Walking back down the stairs into the main room, he found both of his parents sitting with books on the loveseat. Picking up the latest edition of the _Prophet_, he sat in a chair near them and began reading about a witch who had ten children and how she managed.

"So, where did you get off to last night?" his mother asked, breaking the silence. Draco shrugged, continuing on with the article.

"Draco, answer your mother," Lucius snapped. Draco looked up at his parents, startled. He hadn't thought they would be so concerned about his whereabouts.

"I stopped by Grangers' place for a little while," he said finally, leaving out the fact that he had never left. "Then I slept at Blaises'."

"Alright," Narcissa said, her shoulders relaxing perceptively. She went back to her book, which Draco noticed was a muggle book, _Pride and Prejudice_. Taking his paper into the kitchen with him, Draco made himself some lunch.

"So, where do you suppose he really was last night?" Lucius asked without looking up from his book.

"Probably stayed at Miss Grangers' for the night," his wife answered, turning the page. Lucius smirked.

"That boy thinks he can pull something like that over on us," he said, shaking his head.

"Oh, leave your poor son alone, dear. He thinks he's being sly. Just let him pretend we don't know until he is ready to tell us himself." She sniffed. "I still think they're good for each other."

Lucius sighed and set his book down, looking at his wife in exasperation. "As much as I have come to… like Miss Granger, I don't believe that the two of them will be able to entirely move past everything." Draco entered then with a bowl of pea soup.

"Just wait, you'll see." Draco looked back and forth between his parents.

"What's going on?" he asked, spooning some soup into his mouth.

"Nothing dear," Narcissa said, smiling. "I'm just telling your father that he's wrong."

Draco snorted and smirked at his father. "Good luck." He turned back to his paper, missing the knowing look that passed between his parents.

The next day saw Draco make his way once more to Grangers' home. Using a different Glamour, he went through the main door without any trouble from the guard posted yet again outside the building, attempting to be inconspicuous by sitting on a crate and reading a newspaper.

"Open up," he called, banging on the door. He smirked when he heard a bang from inside the apartment, a muffled curse, and some shuffling before the door was thrown open. Granger stood before him, blonde hair wet, and clad only in a small green towel.

"Get in here," she snarled. He raised a brow at her state of undress, his smirk growing wider. "You know, you choose the worst moments to drop in for a visit." She sounded harried.

"I didn't realize that I would be interrupting… whatever it is you were doing," he said, looking around the front room. It looked as if a storm had come through and thrown her usually neat apartment into chaos.

"I'm getting ready to go out," Hermione stated in a clipped tone that should have deterred him from asking where she could be going.

"And what place has you in such a disgruntled state?" he asked, leaning against her kitchen counter while she continued to rush around getting things together and throwing them into her bag, still in only a towel. He perked up when he noticed that it was the same bag she had used while they were under her care.

"Nowhere important," she shouted from her bedroom. She emerged moments later in a black pencil skirt and black suit jacket, her hair twisted on top of her head in a loose chignon. To his surprise, Draco noticed that she was wearing make-up as well; just a hint, but more than he had ever seen her wear.

"If it's not important, why are you all dressed up?" She didn't answer him, continuing to throw things haphazardly into her never-ending clutch. "Granger, where are you going?"

She only stopped because he grabbed her shoulders, preventing her from going into the kitchen. Sighing, she opened her mouth, but shut it again when there was a knock on her door. Eyes wide, she shoved him towards her bedroom, closing him in and rushing to answer the door. Draco leaned against the wooden door, listening to Hermione cheerfully greet whoever was paying her a visit. From the sound of the person's voice, he guessed the Weaselette. Remembering his talk with Blaise from the day before, he grinned and listened carefully.

"Hermione, are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" Ginny asked, looking at her best friend closely. Hermione only shook her head.

"No, Gin, I promise I'll be ok. I just need to do this." She took a deep breath and forced a smile for her worried friend.

"If you change your mind, I'll be at home," Ginny said finally, knowing that Hermione was set on going alone, but hoping that she would accept help from _someone_.

"I'll come over when I get back," Hermione promised, giving her red-headed friend a hug. The girl hugged her back and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before letting herself out.

"What was that all about?" Draco asked when he walked into the front room a few minutes later, after he had deemed it safely Weasel-free.

"Nothing," the witch said, sounding much more tired than when he had arrived.

"Granger, are you going to make me force the answer out of you, or can you just tell me what's going on the easy way?" He folded his arms and frowned at her to prove his point about being difficult.

"Nowhere," she snapped. He sneered.

"If you're going nowhere, then _why_ in Merlin's name are you so dressed up? You never wear make-up!" He realized that their voices were rising, but for some reason, the promise of a fight with Granger elated him.

"Stop yelling!" she cried out, ignoring her own words as her voice filled the entire apartment.

"Only when you tell me what's got you so riled up!" he roared. They were only inches apart, both having moved closer to the other as their voices and tempers had risen.

Hermione searched his face. He seemed so set on knowing what was going on with her, so she sighed and motioned for him to sit on the couch beside her. Not knowing where to begin, Hermione chewed on her bottom lip for a minute, feeling the silver eyes boring into the side of her face. Finally, she decided just what to do.

"Come with me," she said softly. He looked surprised, having just heard her deny her best friend any help. "It's best if I just show you." She slipped her small feet into light blue pumps that matched the undershirt he just noticed she was wearing beneath the jacket.

"Where are we going?" Draco stood when she took his hand and rose from the couch. She didn't answer at first, just grabbed her clutch and linked her arm with his.

"Australia." He barely heard her whisper before he felt the familiar tug of Apparition. Then, the charming living room disappeared.


	14. Chapter 12

**Sorry for such a long wait everyone! School started, and juggling classes, two jobs, and an internship is definitely getting to me. I've had this chapter finished for a while, but I just kept forgetting to post it. It might be a little while before the next chapter, but I promise it will not be another 3 months! **

**Love, **

**Alex**

When they landed, Draco noticed how much hotter it was in Australia than in London. When Granger released his arm, he tugged at the thick coat he was wearing, trying to relieve some of the heat seeping into his body. Looking to his left, he saw the witch had begun walking, almost determinately, down a gravel path that lead somewhere over the hill looming before them.

"Bloody hell, why is it so hot?" he complained after they had breached the top of the hill. Hermione looked sideways at him, but kept walking. He had already taken the jacket off, but even the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing was a little too much. Draco almost wished that he could just walk along in nothing but shoes and his boxers.

"Seriously Granger, why are we in this godforsaken place?" He knew that he was practically whining, but it was just so damn hot that Draco almost didn't care.

Suddenly, the witch who had been walking purposefully in front of him stopped and turned to face him, a hard look in her mocha eyes. "You will listen very closely to what I am about to tell you." He nodded, any words he could have said, stuck in his throat.

She sighed and ran a hand over her face. "We are going to see two people. You will not say a word, not a _single word_, understand?" She waited for a second nod before continuing. "I'm going to be saying some things that won't make much sense to you, but under no circumstance are you to say or do anything to mess this up."

"You're being annoyingly cryptic, Granger." Draco stopped what he was going to say next, which would most likely have pissed her off. She looked like she was ready to break down in tears as it was, and he didn't feel that now was the time to push her over the edge. Whatever it was that they were here for, she seemed to be very anxious about how it would unfold.

A few minutes passed before they came upon a white house with a wraparound porch and a ranch nestled between the house and a large barn. Hermione took a deep breath before continuing along the path and coming to stand at the foot of the stairs of the porch.

"Can I help you?" Draco looked up as the screen door swung open. A woman walked out. He couldn't help but notice that, had Granger's hair been her usual brown instead of the unnatural blonde, the two women would have looked somewhat similar. The same heart-shaped face, the same small nose. But the stranger had green eyes, not brown.

Granger looked about to say something when a man stepped out onto the porch beside his wife. Hermione faltered a little, but picked herself back up and put on a bright smile. Stepping forward, she held her hand out for the couple to shake, and after a moment, they both did.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm visiting a friend, and she told me that there were some great houses out here. I just wanted to stop by and see them for myself." She had a brilliant smile plastered on her face. Just like he had promised, Draco kept silent, but he was dying to know what was going on.

The woman's face lit up and she looked somewhat excited as she asked them to come inside. Draco followed Hermione up the steps, noting with growing suspicion that the man holding the door open had the exact shade of brown eyes that the witch in front of him did. He also noticed that once they were all situated inside the kitchen, Hermione slid her wand out of her pocket and hid it up her sleeve.

"Are you looking to buy a house out here?" the woman asked, smiling at both him and Granger. Hermione nodded and smiled at her before letting out what sounded to him like a perfectly rehearsed spiel. The couple didn't seem to see that Hermione was fidgeting, her hands restlessly playing with each other.

The woman suddenly asked if they would like to stay for lunch, and Hermione looked as if she was holding back tears, but she accepted. He watched as the two women talked amicably while the older one prepared some sandwiches. The man had not said a word since he and Hermione had shown up, but he could feel the eyes on him.

Twenty minutes later, Draco was sitting on a barstool behind the center island counter beside Granger while the owners of the house washed their lunch dishes. The wife was still talking to Hermione, and her husband had begun speaking as well. Draco kept his promise and stayed silent. A gasp almost escaped him though, when he saw Granger point her wand at their backs and mutter something under her breath. A silver light shot out of the tip of her wand and engulfed the two at the sink.

Whatever she was waiting for, Granger seemed disappointed when it didn't happen. Sliding her wand back into her clutch, she stood, motioning for Draco to do the same. Waiting for the couple to finish washing up, Hermione put on a smile and informed them that she was so sorry to rush out like this, but they had an appointment in town.

"If you have any questions about the houses in the area, feel free to call," the woman said, scribbling a phone number on a scrap of paper. The names 'Monica and Wendell Wilkins' were written above the number in happy, looping letters. Hermione folded the paper carefully and put it in her purse.

"Thank you, I'll be sure to do that," she said, shaking both their hands. She walked out onto the porch, waiting only for Draco to fall in step beside her before continuing her determined walk back down the path, over the hill, and to where they had Apparated in.

"Who were they?" Draco asked when he noticed that the witch had taken the phone number out of her bag and was holding it carefully in one hand.

"My parents," she said simply, her voice laced with sadness. His brows shot up in confusion. He had never thought about her parents, or why there was never any talk of them.

"I had to Obliviate their memories of me, the War, everything, to keep them safe from Voldemort and his Death Eaters," she said quietly, looking at her feet. "McGonagall always said there was a chance that I wouldn't be able to bring them back, but she swore it was a small chance. A very slim chance that this could happen. She swore." Her voice cracked on the last word.

"Is there anything you can do?" he asked tentatively. He wasn't exactly sure how he had been roped into coming along, or having this new secret on his shoulders, and he had no idea how to deal with it or the devastated witch at his side.

"That was the last of the spells I've been researching," she said, sniffing a little. "Let's just go." Draco linked his arm with hers and she spun them around, Apparating back to her apartment in London.

As soon as they had come to a stop in her living room, Hermione began going through her clutch and putting things back where they belonged, moving slowly throughout her apartment. Draco stood back, watching her silently walk from one room to another. For the second time, he didn't know what to say to a woman, and it was a very unusual feeling for him.

"Do you need me to call someone for you?" he asked, silently hoping she would ask him to go get the Weaselette and free him from this strange torment.

"Get Ginny please," she said quietly, flopping down onto her couch, her head in her hands.

Trying not to look too relieved, Draco nodded and headed for the door. He hesitated as it opened, but tried to pretend it was only so he could Glamour himself. Taking one last look at the girl on the sofa, he closed the door and rushed out. Remembering that the red-head had said earlier that she would be home if Granger needed her, he headed for where he knew Potter resided.

As Draco neared the Potter-Weasley residence, he slowed, not sure how he was to go about this. Did he just knock on the door, hoped Potter didn't answer, and tell the girl that her friend was crying at home? He felt that somewhere in there should be more tact, but he couldn't think of how to do it.

Finally, Malfoy decided it was best to start with simply knocking on the door. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until he let it out with a whoosh when the red-headed female opened the door. She looked surprised, to say the least, to see him standing in her building, outside her home.

"Malfoy? What in the world are you doing here?" He could tell that she was trying to be calm about the situation he suddenly found himself in, and he was eternally grateful that the Dunderhead Duo were not present.

"Granger just got back from her little outing," he said quickly, leaving out the part where he had gone with her. No need to rub it in the Weaselette's face. "She said she wants you to go to her house."

"Is Hermione ok?" She was already throwing a jacket on and grabbing her purse off the kitchen table nearby. "Malfoy, is she ok?"

"Yes, yes she's fine, physically anyways. But she seemed pretty… distraught, when I left."

"I thought you two weren't supposed to be around each other," she commented dryly, leading him out of the building. Draco shrugged.

"I decided to drop by, see how she was doing, and found her like that," he lied smoothly.

"Well, thank you for letting me know that she needed me," she said, rushing along the streets of London. Draco needed to extend his strides to keep up with the witch without actually running after her.

He recognized the dismissal, and left her to finish her quick journey to Hermione's apartment. Finding himself near the Nott residence, he decided to pay his friend a visit. There was no telling what kind of mood Theo could put him in, and as always, Draco was interested to find out what the other man had in store for the day.

"Hermione? Are you alright in there?" The witch rose from the couch, wrapping the large blanket tighter around her shoulders, before opening the door to her friend.

"Thank you for coming," Hermione murmured, not meeting Ginny's eyes. "I didn't really want to be alone right now."

"You could have just asked Malfoy to stay," the red-head sad softly, looking curiously at her friend. She saw the look of confusion that passed over the brunette-come-blonde's face. "He showed up at my place and told me that you asked for me."

"Oh. I didn't know if he would or not," she said softly, her features sliding back into a more depressed state.

"Come on, let's get you into something more comfortable." Ginny took her friend's arm and led her to her bedroom. Going into the closet, she found a large t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants and tossed them onto the bed beside Hermione. She watched as the witch slipped off her shoes, skirt, jacket, and shirt before wearily putting the pajamas on.

"Which movie do you want to watch?" Ginny held two behind her back. "_Knocked Up_ or _The Proposal_?"

"The second one," Hermione said, sitting on the couch. Ginny popped the movie into the DVD player and went into the kitchen. Hermione could hear her freezer door opening and closing, as well as a cabinet, and then Ginny emerged with two cartons of ice cream and two spoons.

"Strawberry or peppermint?"

"Strawberry please." Ginny placed the strawberry carton on the couch and put the peppermint back in the freezer. She sat beside Hermione, pulling the other half of the blanket around her, snuggling into her best friend.

"Let the fun begin," Ginny said with a smile, popping the top off the ice cream and starting the movie. She didn't miss the small smile that flitted across Hermione's face before the screen went dark in anticipation of the opening scene.

Two hours later, Hermione felt much better. Ginny always knew how to cheer her up, even in times like these. Putting the half-eaten carton back in the freezer, she walked her friend to the door. They hugged and made promises to see each other the next day for lunch, and then she was alone in her apartment.

Sighing, Hermione walked back to her bedroom, fully intending on sleeping for the next ten hours before she had to be at work in the morning. Settling beneath the warm covers, she closed her eyes and pictured the jungle bungalow where she and the Malfoy's had stayed on the Queen Islands, just without the company. It was relaxing her, and she could feel the outside world drifting away.

And then, there was a knock on her door. She left it, figuring whoever it was would come back the next day, or call, if it was so important. She knew that if it were Ginny, Harry, or Ron, they would be calling her to the door by now. Closing her eyes once more, she tried to get the beach and the jungle back into her mind, but the knocking became more persistent. Growling slightly, Hermione threw back the covers and stalked to the front door. Without even looking through the peephole, she flung it open and discovered Draco Malfoy standing there, hand raised in a fist to knock again.

"What?" she asked tiredly, rubbing her hand over her eyes. "Do you need something?"

"I wanted to see if you were alright," he responded with a frown. "Granger, you look like shit."

"Gee, thanks so very much," came the snapped reply. "You sure do know how to make a girl feel good in her own home."

He held his hands up in front of him, trying to placate the woman. "I simply meant, you look tired. May I come in?" Hermione nodded and stepped back, letting the tall man into her home for the second time that day.

"Did Weasley make you feel any better?" Hermione nodded. "Then I suggest you go take a shower."

"Excuse me?" He smirked at her.

"Granger, you look like hell. Go take a shower. It will make you feel better." She frowned at him and crossed her arms.

"No, I'm going to bed. You should leave now." Her tone made him raise a golden brow higher above his silver eyes. She was going to make him do this the hard way.

"C'mon Granger," he ground out through clenched teeth. Striding over to her, he ducked down and picked her up over his shoulder. She squealed, and then began pounding on his back with her small fists. He deposited her in her bathroom, dumping her squirming form onto the seat of the toilet.

"You need to take a shower; it will make you feel better." She still looked annoyed, so he shrugged. "It always makes me feel better after a particularly rough day." Granger softened a little at that.

"Fine," she resigned with a sigh. "Get out." He left the room, but didn't go far. Leaning up against the wall beside the bathroom door, Draco listened to her undress and turn on the shower. After ten minutes, he sat with his back against the wall and waited for her much-needed relaxation to be done. He could just hear the small mewls of satisfaction leaking out from under the door, and he smiled to himself.

"At least _someone_ feels better after all of this," he muttered to no one. It was another ten minutes before he heard the shower turn off and Granger's soft footfalls on the bathroom floor.

"You're still here." She sounded surprised enough for Draco to feel offended.

"I told you, I wanted to see if you were ok." He kept his voice neutral, as if he didn't care either way. And honestly, he didn't. So, she had a bad day. So did everyone else on the planet. She would survive this, and it wouldn't be through any coddling from him.

She didn't say anything as she walked into her bedroom, dressed once more in the sweats Ginny had picked out for her. It was certainly strange, seeing Draco Malfoy in her home, here to help her and see if she was alright after her trying day. He followed her into her bedroom, as if to make sure she was getting back in bed.

"Do you need something? Going to make me a bowl of soup too?" she sneered, pulling the covers up around her.

The smirk that appeared on his face was one straight from their days at Hogwarts; cruel, demeaning, and cold. She was taken aback for a moment, reliving some of the times in school when that smirk had been directed solely at her. It usually marked the beginning of one of their infamous arguments.

"Granger, if you're going to be patronizing, people aren't going to want to help you." His voice was cold and clipped. She looked at his face and saw that he had hidden his emotions away, as he was bound to do. The aloof, emotionless visage in front of her was not one of a person she wanted at her bedside on a day like this.

"Then leave," she snapped, turning her back to him and ripping the blankets over her head. After a moment, she heard him walk into the living room. The warmth of being underneath the blankets and breathing in her own carbon dioxide was lulling her to sleep. Hermione closed her eyes and was almost instantly dragged down into her dreams.

Walking out of Hermione's bedroom, Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair. She made such a fuss about him being there and telling her what to do. It reminded him a little of their school days. Sure, back then, the closest he got to her was only to make snide remarks and call her derogatory names. But now, he found that he actually enjoyed arguing and fighting with her. It got his blood pumping and his mind running, but even more, it brought the spark of fire back to her eyes. After they had left her parents' home, the spark had disappeared and been replaced by a dull, cloudy look. Their argument had brought it back.

Her comment about him making her soup had certainly reminded him of the snarky comebacks she had hurled at him at Hogwarts. It almost made him smile, thinking of how similar their relationship was compared to back then. But then he remembered that he knew now why she was sad, whereas four years ago, he hadn't cared enough to find out. Things sure were different.

Draco sat on the couch for a moment, recalling a few of their bigger fights in school. One that came to mind was the time in third year when she had broken his nose, punching him in the face like a true Muggle. He, Crabbe, and Goyle had been watching Hagrids' home, waiting for Macnair to put that filthy Hippogriff to rest, when Hermione and her two idiots had shown up. He had asked, stupidly, if they were there to watch the show as well, ignoring the signs that screamed at him, warning that Hermione was already too emotional. She had come at him, wand up and pointed at his face. Even under oath, Draco would never admit that he had been frightened of the fiery witch at that moment. She had sealed the deal by rearing back and punching him right in the face.

Sure he had been scared of her, but to his defense, he was smart enough to realize that she was stronger than him with her wand at his throat. It had occurred to him, years later while he was being trained in the Dark Arts and physical fighting by his aunt Bellatrix that he could have blocked her fist and retaliated with a curse. But when he was thirteen, the thought had never crossed his mind to actually hurt the Muggle-born witch.

Whimpering brought him back to the couch and Grangers' house with a start. Looking around suddenly, remembering where he was, his heart rate slowed. Thinking of Aunt Bella and what she had taught him still gave him nightmares on his dark days.

Listening carefully for the noise, he heard it again, coming from Granger's room. Curious, Draco rose and walked slowly to her bedroom door, putting his ear against the wood. He heard the bed creaking as she thrashed around, her cries growing louder as she was thrown deeper into her dream. He contemplated leaving her alone and just pretending that he had never heard her nighttime troubles. But then he remembered that his nightmares haunted him frequently and it always helped having someone there, even if it was his mother.

"Granger?" He opened the door and poked his head in. He noticed right away that her nightmare must be a rough one; she was tangled in the sheets, her face scrunched up in pain. He saw the sweat drenching her body and thought of how he had been unable to sleep with a shirt on since sixth year of school, when he had begun his work for Lord Voldemort. The nightmares had been so bad that he would wake up in the middle of the night with his t-shirt soaked through.

"Granger, wake up," he said, louder, hoping she would hear him and wake on her own. It was not to be; her dreams continued, unhindered by his pathetic attempt at awakening her. Frowning, Draco reached out a hand and shook her shoulder. She flinched from his touch. He kept calling her name, trying to get her to come back to him. Suddenly, her eyes flew open and locked onto his.

_Hermione walked along the platform, looking for Harry and Ron. The other students were running all around her, hugging parents goodbye and rushing to get seats on the train with their friends. She pulled her cart along behind her, Crookshanks angrily clawing at his cage when she accidentally hit a bump in the stone walkway._

_ "Hermione!" Turning, she saw her parents standing with Harry, Ron, and Ginny. They were all smiling and laughing, waiting for her to reach them. Grinning, she headed over towards where they stood, directly under the sign for Platform 9¾._

_ As she neared, their smiles faded. When she was standing right in front of the group of people she loved, they were looking past her, anywhere but at her. Frowning, she reached out a hand, trying to get her mother to look at her. And then, they were all staring at her, their gazes hard._

_ "Who are you?" her father asked, bringing his arm protectively around his wife. Hermione felt her throat become tight and she held back the sudden tears._

_ "I'm your daughter," she said, almost desperately. They both frowned and glared at her, as if she wasn't their only child._

_ "We don't have any children. I think you're confused," her mother snapped. Her father turned them both away from Hermione, who could only watch as they disappeared through the barrier back into Muggle London._

_ She turned then to her three friends. They were all looking down their noses at her, as if she were a dirty beggar child on the side of the road. Harry put an arm protectively around his girlfriend, just as her father had done minutes before. Ron stood in front of the two, arms crossed as he glared down at her with hatred._

_ "Get out of here Granger," he snarled, his blue eyes blazing. Startled, Hermione took a few steps back, jumping in surprise when she bumped into someone behind her._

_ "Watch where you're going," a familiar voice snapped. She turned and looked up into the face of Draco Malfoy. Taking a step back, she noticed his Slytherin friends flanking him. She became immediately frightened when she saw his parents, his aunt, and Voldemort standing behind them, all glaring at her._

_ "You know Granger, you really are the smartest witch of your age," Malfoy said, a cruel smirk on his lips. "You realized early on that no one wants to be friends with a broken, disgusting girl like you." Everyone seemed to nod in agreement at the blonde man's words._

_ "Who could ever think of being with you, as filthy as you are?" Narcissa asked with a harsh laugh. _

_ "You can't even keep your own parents with you," Lucius said with a smirk that rivaled his son's._

_ "I told you I would ruin you," a raspy voice whispered in her ear. Hermione froze, her entire body clenching up as she recognized who the voice belonged to. Turning around slowly, she saw the Lestrange brothers leering behind her. They were dressed in their Death Eater robes, masks hanging from their fingers as they looked her over._

_ "You've grown," Rodolphus said, smiling at her. The smile didn't reach his dark eyes, and Hermione felt dirty just standing near him._

_ "You've been lying to everyone about us," Rebastan chastised. "You haven't told your little friends. You lied to Malfoy." He slid an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Hermione held back the bile at the horrible stench coming from his robes._

_ "You told him only a small part of the wonderful time the three of us spent together." Rodolphus came up behind her. Both brothers whispered in her ears. At first, it was just curses and horrible Dark Magic that slithered from their mouths. But then they began telling her what they did to her, and what they were going to do to her when they got her back._

_ "Granger!" The brothers released her and she found her shoulder being gripped tightly by a pale hand. Looking up, Hermione found herself face to face with Draco, his silver eyes boring into her._

_ "You know what happened Granger," he whispered cruelly. _

_She became lost in the dark gaze, slipping away from the platform scene around her. She could hear the Lestrange brothers whispering things in her ears. The only thing she could see were Draco's eyes, the silver flashing dangerously at her._

Waking with a start, Hermione immediately locked onto the person standing over her. She met his eyes, stunned by the difference between them in her dream, and the concern she saw now. His lips were turned down in a frown, and his brow was pulled together with worry. _Draco Malfoy was worried about her?_

"Granger, are you ok?" His voice sounded softer than it had in her dream, and she thanked Merlin for that.

"It was nothing," she whispered, realizing that her voice was a little hoarse.

Malfoy looked skeptical, his mercurial eyes taking in everything, from the sweat on her brow to the heaving of her chest. Glancing down, he sat on the edge of her bed, careful not to accidentally sit on her.

"Granger, I know when you're lying," he said, just as soft. She opened her mouth to protest, but realized that it was futile; he could always tell.

"It was another nightmare," she said, not meeting his eyes. She didn't want to know what he thought of that.

"What happened?" He reached out a hand and brushed her hair off her face, not even flinching at the sweat he encountered.

"I don't want to talk about it." Hermione was loath to tell him what she had seen on the fake platform. He would either ask her what she hadn't told him, or not care enough to ask. She didn't think she could handle either of those at the moment.

"Here, scoot over," he said suddenly, prodding her in the side. She stared up at him, astounded. "Granger, having someone there helps." The way he said it let her know that he had frequent nightmares. She wondered if he'd had any recently, or while she was staying with them. She asked.

"A few times," he said slowly, looking at his hands. "Mostly at the beginning, but I always Silence the room just in case. You?" He met her eyes again.

"Sometimes," she admitted with a sigh. It did feel good to talk about the nightmares, even if they weren't discussing the content. As long as someone knew, she felt a little better.

"Have you ever told your friends?" She shook her head. "Why not? I would have thought they would understand and try to help you."

"For a couple of reasons. I can't very well tell them the real reason for most of my nightmares," she said softly, looking away. Draco knew that she was talking about his deranged uncles and decided not to press her. "And besides, they all have their own demons from the War; how can I expect them not to be going through the same thing?"

"Have you considered going to a professional?"

"Have you?" She had him there and they both knew it. Draco would never tell someone outside family and close friends about his nightmares, and she felt the same. This led her to think for a moment about how he had told her of his nighttime visits from his dark past; it wasn't as if they were close.

"You need to rest." A few minutes had passed silently and Hermione realized that the nightmare had exhausted her.

"Are you staying?" Her question had been asked so silently that she wondered if he had even heard her. Then, he nodded slowly.

"I think it will do us both a little good to get a full night's sleep," Draco said softly. He rose and pushed his shoes and socks off with his toes.

Pulling his slacks off, Malfoy made his way over to the other side of Grangers' bed, noticing how much smaller it was than his own. Deciding finally that it was too muggy in her room to wear a shirt, he slid beneath the covers in just his boxers. They lay facing each other, eyes locked for a few moments in silence until Hermione began drifting, her eyelids closing slowly.

"If you drool on me, I'll hex you," he murmured, closing his eyes. He didn't miss the small smile though.

"I don't drool," she said, almost slurring her words with fatigue. They were quiet for a while longer and Draco assumed she had fallen asleep. He didn't open his eyes to check, deciding instead that he needed to sleep almost as much as she did.

Hermione slid her hand against the light sheets, searching. When she found his hand, she slipped her own into it and held on tight to ward off any more dreams. Draco understood the need for physical contact and allowed it, secretly needing the same. After seeing what Hermione had been through today, it reminded him that he had been lucky to escape the War with both of his parents.


	15. Chapter 13

Draco woke to the sound of an alarm clock blaring loudly throughout the room. He tried to lift his arm to shut it off, stopping when he felt the warmth between his limbs. He slowly cracked his eyes open and looked down. Hermione Granger was pressed up against his chest, her face in the crook of his neck. He had his arms wrapped tight around her small body. She must have taken her sweatpants off in the night, because her bare legs were tangled with his in the sheets.

As the alarm clock continued, Hermione moaned and shifted closer to him, pressing one hand against his heart as she moved. He could smell the apple shampoo she had used the previous night, and he recalled the last time he had been close enough to smell her shampoo. Frowning slightly, Draco tried to slowly unwrap himself. After a few tries, he realized that it was futile. The alarm clock buzzing reminded him that she was going to work today, and needed to get up and get ready.

"Granger," he murmured into her hair. "Wake up. You have to go to work."

"No," she purred in her sleep, lifting her face so that her lips were pressed lightly against the base of his throat. He couldn't help that his pulse sped up at the contact, or that his morning wood got a little bit tighter.

"Granger, it's time to get up." He unclasped his hands from behind her back and tried to rouse her by shaking her shoulder, gently at first, and then a little harder when she still had not woken.

Finally, just when he was getting annoyed enough to hex the alarm clock into oblivion, Granger opened her eyes. He realized that it had only been five minutes, but it had seemed like forever with her sleepily wrapped in his embrace. He dearly hoped she couldn't feel the side effects of the morning pressed against her stomach.

"Draco?" She sounded confused when her mocha eyes latched onto his. He smoothed some hair back from her face so that he could meet her eyes unhindered.

"You need to get ready for work," he said for the last time. Her eyes popped open and she blushed as she realized how entangled they were in her bed, little clothes between the two.

"Sorry," she mumbled, not looking at him as they both brought their limbs to their own sides and got out of the bed.

"Not a problem." He pulled his shirt back on, buttoning the white buttons slowly as he watched the witch walk to her closet in her t-shirt and knickers. As a man, he couldn't help but admire the view her lack of pants provided.

"Nice arse Granger," he called, smirking. He waited for her bushy head to pop out of the closet and glare at him.

"Thanks Malfoy," she said instead. His jaw almost dropped. Since when did she brush off his sexual comments like that?

"So I guess I'll just see you later, yeah?" he said after a moment. Hermione reappeared, dressed in a skirt and suit jacket ensemble, ready for the workday.

"Sure, that's fine." She didn't look at him as she applied a thin layer of light pink lipstick. Putting the cosmetics down, she saw Draco take his leave out of the corner of her eye. She smiled to herself; his hair was hopelessly rumpled.

"So, were you at Blaises' again last night?" Draco jumped.

"Shit Mother, you could have at least warned me you were there." He held a hand to his heart, trying to calm the erratic beating down.

"Language, Draco," she chastised without missing a beat. "I assume that is where you were, since you didn't come back at all yesterday." Without looking, Draco could sense the raised eyebrow his mother was aiming at him.

"Yes, I stayed at Blaises' for the night. We walked around town for a bit, then went to a bar and had a few drinks." Draco found it had gotten easier and easier to think up believable lies in the presence of people like his parents and the Dark Lord, thanks to his Aunt Bellatrix. "We played a few rounds of exploding snap for a while, and I took him up on his offer to just crash in his spare room for the night. I apologize if I worried you and Father." He added the apology for good measure; one never knew if Narcissa Malfoy was in a forgiving mood until the moment of truth.

"Well, I suggest you don't make a habit of it," she said, dipping her head in acquiescence to his apology. "Your father and I need you here to keep up the image of a combined front for these people the Ministry is sending over a few times a week to evaluate us."

"Evaluate us?" She made it sound like they were being judged on their worthiness to live where they did.

"Yes, the Minister put it into effect yesterday afternoon. He promised that it would not inconvenience us, but I believe that it will be quite a disturbance. Imagine, having people asking questions about our daily life so that we may live in comfort." She sniffed, adding to the effect that she thought the exercise ludicrous and unnecessary.

"Mother, I am sure that Minister Shacklebolt has a very good reason for such an intrusion of our lives. He did, after all, practically rescue us from that horrid place in whatever country that was."

"Yes, alright," she sighed. Narcissa waved a hand, effectively ending the conversation as she invited him down to breakfast. He accepted, saying that he just needed to clean up first.

A quick shower was all Draco needed to feel refreshed. Even though neither had had nightmares, he assumed, cuddling up against Granger like that had made him sweat a bit. Blaise, if he were there, would tease that he was nervous about being that close to a nearly naked Hermione Granger. Draco would, of course, argue that it was simply because the room was unusually stuffy for a cool day like the one they'd had yesterday. He liked his argument and he was sticking to it.

"Mother, Father," he greeted, sitting at his father's left hand at the small table. Both his parents nodded their heads in greeting before pouring themselves coffee.

"So Draco, your mother tells me that you spent the night with Mr. Zabini again last night?" It may have been a question, but Draco had always been able to tell what his father really wanted to know.

"Yes, we had a bit of a tiring day and decided it would be simplest if I stayed in his extra bedroom."

"I wonder when that boy will get a girlfriend," Narcissa said suddenly. The piece of toast headed for Draco's mouth stopped midair. "He's such a nice boy, and so handsome."

"Mother, I'm not sure Blaise is at that point in his life right now," Draco said, trying to communicate to his mother that his best friend was not ready to give up his fast girls just yet. "Maybe in another year or two."

"Hmm yes, well if his mother were here, I have no doubt that he would be married by now." All three frowned as they thought of Viviana Zabini. The woman had been a force to reckon with.

"Cissy, if Viviana was here, we would have bigger problems than Blaises' marital status," Lucius murmured, reading an article in the Daily Prophet. "She would be here constantly, asking us to social events just to show off that she still had us caught in her webs."

It was no secret that the people of Wizarding Britain compared Viviana Zabini to a Black Widow spider. The beautiful witch had seven dead husbands under her belt, as well as all of their wealth. Some would call in gold-digging, Viviana called it 'making smart investments.' The tall, wealthy, gorgeous Italian woman had taken whatever she had set her sights on.

Blaise had once confided to Draco that he wasn't sure if his surname was from his father, his mother's maiden name, or one of his mother's other married names. Blaise was not the oldest of his siblings, so they were all likely possibilities. He knew that he had brothers and sisters, but he had only ever met one sister and one brother, and that was purely by accident. The three had met at a ball the Nott's had hosted, unaware that they were related until Viviana came and introduced them all as blood. Blaise had been blown away by his handsome Greek older brother, Christos. His younger, beautifully light-skinned sister, told him that she and her deceased father were Irish. He had admitted to Draco later that before he had met her, he had thought Nola would be a good girl to go after for a little while. Those thoughts flew right out the window at the realization that they were related closely by blood.

"I just think that boy needs to settle down with a nice girl," his mother commented, bringing Draco back to the conversation at the breakfast table.

"Mother, I told you, Blaise isn't there yet. When he is, I'll be sure to find some 'nice girls' for him to choose from." Draco would do no such thing. If there was one thing about Blaise he was absolutely sure about, it was that the man did not appreciate help with the opposite sex.

After breakfast, he and his mother decided that it would be a good time to go book shopping. Narcissa had been looking for something new to read in their house since the day before, and Draco was tired of her hinting that they needed to get out of the house.

"Found anything you like, Mother?" The older woman shook her head, frowning at the large bookcase before her. Her sapphire eyes perused the shelves, ignoring the annoyed look her son was sending her way as he stood silently beside her.

"Is there something I can help you with, Madame Malfoy?" An attendant had finally found them among the many books. Draco watched as his mother took the young woman off throughout the shop, searching for just the right reading material for the next few weeks.

"Malfoy, I'm a little surprised to see you here." Draco turned at the voice and found the youngest Weasley behind him, a smirk on her freckled face.

"Why ever would that be, my darling little Weasel?" he drawled, favoring the usual insult. To his relief, her face didn't turn red and she didn't shove her wand at his heart.

"Well, I was unaware that you had the ability to read things written by Muggles." Ginny grinned at him, winking as she walked past to where the checkout counter was. Draco glanced at the shelf his mother had been searching and realized that they were, in fact, Muggle stories.

"There are a lot of things you are unaware of," he said, following her. _Like the fact that I slept in the same bed as your best friend last night._ He quieted his traitorous thoughts and focused on what the redhead in front of him was saying.

"Hmm, and what kind of things would those be?" she asked, batting her lashes, exaggerating the motion tremendously. Draco opened his mouth to respond with something witty, but found that her over-the-top flirtatious manner was too humorous to ignore any longer, and they both laughed.

"Weasley, I admit, you're not too bad," he said, smirking. She grinned and winked at him.

"I always knew you had a soft spot for me, Malfoy," she teased.

"Mmm, yes, it was right above your brother and your boyfriend," he said cheerfully. _And right below Granger, where you want to be._ He almost choked on air at the sudden intrusive picture that ran through his mind that the thought that broke through. _Where are these coming from?_

"Shouldn't you be at work?" Ginny shrugged.

"I decided that today would be my day off. It has been much too long since I was properly pampered by professionals."

"Why Miss Weasley, I was unaware that you needed the use of an escort service to adequately please you." Draco just couldn't pass up the obvious opportunity to stick one to Potter and his sexual abilities.

Ginny blushed furiously and looked away from him for a moment. He thought that she might begin to yell, but was surprised when she giggled a little.

"No, you idiot," she laughed. "I _meant_ I haven't been to a spa lately. I am in desperate need of a massage and some attention should be paid to my nails pronto." The girl inspected her nails critically, as if cursing them for being so out of shape.

"You should get Granger out of work for the day and bring her along," he said without thinking. Ginny looked up at him, a puzzled look sliding across her features for a moment. "Whatever it was that upset her yesterday could be helped by a good massage." He shrugged. _You wish it was _your_ hands giving her the massage_, his mind threw at him treacherously. He desperately needed to get away from the younger witch before he accidentally said one of the ridiculous thoughts swirling around his mind.

"I think Mother is finished with her shopping, so I suppose I'll see you around Weaselette," Draco said quickly. Luckily, he had spotted his mother outside the store, giving credence to his quick diversion from further conversation.

"Till later then, Malfoy," the redhead conceded.

"Ginny, this is the best idea you have ever had." Hermione couldn't help the small moan that slid past her lips as the masseuse dug her fingers into the skin and muscles around Hermione's shoulder blades. She hadn't realized how incredibly tense she was until the Muggle woman had made it evident that it would take a while to get all the knots out.

"I know, I'm a genius," her friend replied, sighing contentedly. She had yet to tell Hermione that this had been Malfoy's idea, and she didn't think she would. After all, she had been the one to bring up the spa. Ginny let all thoughts leave her as the masseuse continued her expert ministrations.

The two witches spent the next three hours being pampered. They got their nails done after the massages before being wrapped in huge fluffy towels and put in the sauna. The girls had let all their problems just flow away as they enjoyed the wonderful treatment they received at the Pavilion Spa in Berkshire. They'd even taken their time getting to the spa and back, using the newest model of the flying car that Mr. Weasley had received from the Ministry. It was a cute little coupe and Hermione loved driving around in it.

"I think that was a very productive break from work," Ginny murmured as the car slid into an open spot in front of hers and Harrys' apartment.

"I agree. I think it needs to be done much more often." The younger witch nodded and opened the car door. "So I'll see you and Harry for dinner tonight?"

"Yeah, I don't think he'll be getting out of work too late, so I'll call you when he gets home and you can come right over." Hermione beamed at her best friend and waved as she pulled back into traffic. Surprisingly, she liked that the Ministry was attached to Muggle London and that all of them had chosen to live there instead of Wizarding London. It was easier to manage.

Hermione passed the next few hours relaxing on her couch, the television on as a distraction while she waited for Ginny to call. She didn't realize that she'd fallen asleep until her phone rang. Lifting her head from the arm of the couch where it had been resting, she stared at the telephone, thinking seriously about using Accio to just bring it to her. Groaning instead, she rose and went to pick up the receiver before it went to voicemail.

"Hello?"

"Hey Hermione, just wanted to let you know that Harry just got in."

"Ok great, I'll be over in a minute. Open your Floo, will you?"

"Yeah, it'll be open in a sec. Did I wake you?"

"Yeah, I guess I dozed off on the couch there for a bit, but it's fine, I'm hungry now anyways." Ginny laughed.

"Alright, well then get over here so we can all eat!"

"See you soon, Gin." Hermione hung up the phone and grabbed her purse and the bottle of wine she had picked up on the way home. Putting on her jacket, she enlarged her fireplace and stepped inside. "Harry Potter's house," she called, throwing the Floo Powder onto the floor of the fireplace. The green fire sprang up around her and when it died down a moment later, she could see the dining room table was set for dinner at Harry's.

"I brought something for dinner," Hermione said, handing Ginny the wine. Ginny beamed and brought it into the kitchen to find some glasses. Brushing off her jacket, Hermione walked into the main hall to hang it with the others.

"Hey Hermione," Harry said, coming up behind her. She smiled and hugged her oldest friend.

"How are you? I haven't seen you in a while." Harry grinned and ran his hand through his already messy hair.

"I'm good. The Minister wasn't too happy about your abduction, so we've been working hard to figure out what happened." He grimaced. "Sorry about being absent, I've just been so busy, and—"

Hermione held up a hand and smiled. "Harry, there's no reason to apologize! I completely understand that you're swamped. In fact, I should be apologizing to you for leaving you all to figure this out alone."

"Yes, you should be very sorry that we have to deal with this without you," he said seriously. "I mean, who do you think you are? Some war hero or something? Please, Hermione, stop ditching work or I'll tell Kingsley to fire you."

"I'm terribly sorry Harry," she replied, looking down at her feet. She made the mistake of looking up and meeting his eyes. They burst into laughter and rejoined Ginny in the dining room.

"So Hermione, I thought you and the Malfoys weren't supposed to have any contact," Ginny said as they ate. Hermione stopped, her fork halfway to her mouth. Her eyes flitted to Harry, watching as his mouth dropped open.

"Hermione, have you been seeing Malfoy?" He sounded incredulous.

"Umm, only yesterday, when he came by to see how I was doing," she mumbled. She dearly wished that Ginny hadn't said anything.

"How did he get by the guard?" Hermione winced and realized that it was best to just tell Harry the truth.

"Well, actually, he's been using a Glamour to get by the guard. And I'm sorry I lied, but this is the second time he's been over." Harry closed his mouth, his jaw tight.

"Hermione, that order was put in place to keep _you_ safe," he said, sounding desperate for her to understand. "Is seeing Malfoy so important to you that you'd risk being taken by those Death Eaters again? They said they were there because of your connection to the Malfoys. I need you to promise me that you will have no more contact with any of them."

"But Harry," she began, stopping when he held up a hand and closed his eyes.

"I need you to promise me, Hermione," he repeated softly, opening his eyes to pierce her with his emerald stare. She paused for a moment, conflicted, before nodding. "Say it."

"I promise I won't have any more contact with the Malfoys," she intoned quietly. For some reason, making that promise to her best friend was harder than it should have been. Not seeing Malfoy or his parents again shouldn't be a big deal, but Hermione realized at that moment, that it was.


	16. Chapter 14

"Hermione, you were sneaking around, disobeying orders, to see _Malfoy_?" Ron couldn't wrap his mind around what his two best friends had just told him. Hermione ducked her head, embarrassed that she had been caught breaking the rules.

"I don't think you understand how dangerous it is for you, Hermione," Neville added, his face grim. Hermione could tell that her friends were all very worried about her, she just couldn't seem to explain to them properly _why_ she had been seeing Malfoy.

"We were just used to being around each other, I guess," she said lamely. They all frowned at her, clearly not accepting the excuse. "I don't know, it's weird for me too. I went from hating them more than anyone else, and now…" She sighed. "Now, I actually _want_ to spend time with them. They're nice to me." _Well, Narcissa is,_ she amended to herself.

"But of all the people in the world that you could spend time with, you choose _Malfoy_?" Ron's voice was rising, and this annoyed Hermione.

"Ok, I understand that I shouldn't have done what I did. But I don't get how you guys can still be so skeptical about them! They've clearly changed! I mean, honestly, don't you trust my judgment _at all_?" She had a point there, and the two men knew it.

"Hermione, we _do_ trust your judgment. Otherwise, we would all probably be dead by now," Ron said, attempting a joke to lighten the mood a bit. He knew that this was a serious topic, but he rather disliked seeing everyone so tense.

"We just don't want you to get hurt," Neville said at last. "By the Malfoys, or whoever it was that came after you. We just want to keep you _safe_."

Furrowing her brows at how they were all coddling her, Hermione opened her mouth, prepared to tell them that she was a big girl and could handle herself. But then, she noticed Neville's pleading look, and the way Ron was watching her closely. She bit back the words and simply nodded. She _did_ understand where they were all coming from; she just didn't like what it entailed.

Harry walked in then, saving her from having to say anything more to the two men.

"What're you lot whispering about?" he asked, dragging a hand through his messy black hair, causing it to stick up even straighter, if possible.

"We were just telling Hermione that we're only worried about her safety," Ron said, not beating around the bush whatsoever. Hermione had to refrain from rolling her eyes. No matter how much she understood where they were all coming from, she thought it was unnecessary. She could take care of herself.

"Yes, well…" Harry looked like he didn't quite know what to say, so he closed his mouth and linked arms with her. She was glad; she didn't know if she could keep quiet after the way he had laid into her the night before.

"So where are we headed?" Hermione dared to ask, following the three boys out of the Ministry.

"Out to dinner," Ron said. Apparently, they had planned this without telling her.

Hermione almost scowled. She would not be happy if her friends had begun a plan to keep her busy as a way to make sure she stayed away from the Malfoys. She did not appreciate being spied on, no matter how valiant the reasons were. If she couldn't trust her friends to let her live her life, who could she trust?

The witch stopped her train of thought suddenly, taking a deep breath. She realized that she had been traveling along a very dark road simply because of some speculation of her friends' actions. For all she knew, this dinner could have been planned and they hadn't had the opportunity to tell her sooner. She decided then to give her friends the benefit of the doubt.

At the restaurant, the four of them joined Ginny and Luna at a table in the back, mostly away from the prying eyes of the other consumers. Hermione had been too preoccupied with her thoughts to see what restaurant they were in, but she liked the interior décor. That was enough for Hermione to want to enjoy the new food. She desperately needed to relax with her oldest friends and forget about the Malfoy fiasco for just a little while.

"How are you, Hermione?" She had missed Luna's faraway lilt while she was abroad. Turning to the blonde witch, she smiled and hugged the woman.

"I'm wonderful Luna, how are you? How has your work been going?" Being away from the Ministry for so long, Hermione had missed the goings-on of Luna's part in the Ministry of Magic.

"It's going very well," she sang. "The Minister has been very kind about keeping my suggestions in mind. The Aurors are taking my newest spells with them on trial runs. So far, it's been an excellent turnout."

Luna designed new spells for the Ministry. Hermione and she had gone into the business together right out of Hogwarts, and while the work was a challenge that her mind appreciated, Hermione had realized that ultimately, it was not what she wanted to do fulltime. So while Luna had continued on, creating almost five new spells over the past year, Hermione had been happy to help her out on the side whenever the witch needed to pick someone's brain.

"If you need me for anything, don't hesitate," Hermione reminded, secretly hoping Luna was working on a new project that she could help with. She needed something solid to keep her mind on one track.

"I don't at the present moment, but I will soon, I'm sure. And I will let you know if I have any trouble at all." The two smiled at each other before looking down at their Italian menus to order.

Dinner went well, better than Hermione had expected. She had hoped that no one would bring up her neglect of her own safety, and luckily, the others kept their opinions to themselves. Ginny, while the boys went to the bar after dinner for a nightcap, told Hermione and Luna that she was sure she had seen Harry looking at rings during her lunch break that day.

"Gin, were you spying on him?" Hermione laughed. Her best friend blushed and took a sip of her martini.

"No, not really. I just happened to see him leave the office, so I took my break." She shrugged.

"Suspicious because he didn't invite you to lunch?" Hermione hedged with a grin. Ginny laughed and shook her head, her red hair flowing around her bare shoulders.

"I was window shopping for a new dress. But don't tell Harry; he wants me to, and I quote, 'cut back on my shopping habit'." The three women laughed at the ludicrous request Harry had made. They all knew that Ginny would do no such thing. And she had the money to supply it, so why not?

"So, what are you going to say?" Luna asked, albeit unnecessarily.

"Why, yes of course!" She smiled dreamily. "I've been waiting for Harry to pop the question for quite a while now. I know we've only been dating for four years, but with everything that we've been through together, it seems so much longer."

"I know what you mean," Luna said, glancing over and smiling at Neville's back. She and her boyfriend had been together for almost as long as Harry and Ginny, and Hermione would bet that the woman was ready to make it official.

Hermione suddenly had a twinge of sadness that she wasn't going through the same thing as her two best girlfriends. She _wanted_ a man to settle down and have a life with; the problem was finding one compatible with her. She glanced at the bar as well and bit back a sigh at the sight of Ron laughing at something. _I could be engaged right now_. But to Ron? She could barely imagine it. Sure, they had been good back in school, but it hadn't worked out for a reason, and she didn't want to push them any further.

Before she could think any more on the status of her sex life, the men came back with new drinks for them all. Hermione, Luna, and Ginny exchanged looks knowingly; if they knew their boys, these were their fourth drinks from the bar alone. The girls accepted their own nightcaps and sipped quietly, smiling at the stories Harry and Ron were telling about their most recent Quidditch pick-up game. Apparently, Seamus Finnigan had almost blown up his own broomstick. Things didn't change much for some people.

"I'll walk you home, Hermione." She looked up from her bill to see Ron standing beside her, his hand outstretched. Smiling, she took it and let him pull her to her feet. The alcoholic daze allowed her to lean against Ron for a moment, simply enjoying the way it felt to depend on a man like that again.

Ginny glanced at her brother and best friend from inside the circle of Harry's strong arms. Grinning, her face red from the multiple glasses of wine, she snuggled into her boyfriends' side, glad that Hermione was giving her brother a second chance. They were, and probably always will be, good for each other. She had understood Hermione's need to be independent after the War, but the battles were long gone, and it was time for her to start a life at home, like her and Harry.

Hermione and Ron walked from the restaurant hand-in-hand, their legs almost bumping into each other as they strolled down the darkened streets. Somewhere, deep in her sober mind, Hermione knew that allowing Ron to carry on like this was a bad idea. But, the thought was too far deep to pull through the drunkenness.

"Hermione, do you want me to walk you up?" Ron slurred, smiling down at her when they reached the front of her building. Smiling back, Hermione nodded, not quite ready to give up the warmth from Ron's hand around hers.

His arm came around her shoulders, dragging her tight against his body while they walked into her apartment. Ron shut the door behind them and used the toe of one shoe to take off the other, before doing the same to remove the second shoe. Hermione kept her shoes on, liking the height advantage the heels gave her.

"I'm going to freshen up," Hermione said, earning a grin from Ron. Practically stumbling to the bathroom, Hermione looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair had been fine at the beginning of the night, and she wasn't sure when it had returned to the bushy bird's nest that it was now. She dearly hoped she was already drunk at that point.

"Hermione, you comin' back?" Ron yelled from what she assumed was the couch. Snorting indelicately, Hermione splashed a little water on her face before opening the door and returning to where Ron was waiting for her with a grin.

"I really missed you Hermione," he mumbled into her hair when she sat beside him. He wrapped his arms around her slim body and pulled her flush against his side.

"Why did we ever stop this?" Hermione looked up at him, realizing how close together they were and just the type of situation she had put herself in. Ron continued on his drunken rant, unaware that Hermione was pulling through the haze and returning to a fully conscious state.

"I mean, we were _so good _together in school, and everyone always said that we would get married and have a whole bunch of little red-haired babies," he slurred, kissing her forehead in what Hermione assumed was supposed to be an endearing gesture.

"What about when you dated Lavender?" Hermione asked quietly, still just a tad too intoxicated to think clearly enough to end the conversation.

Ron waved his hand and scoffed. "Lavender just always threw herself at me, and there comes a point when no bloke will say 'no' to someone like that. Besides, you didn't like me then."

"Yes, I did," she countered, turning to face him. He frowned.

"Really? Well, you never said anything, so it's your own fault I was with Lavender."

"Ron, I thought I made it clear on a few different occasions how I felt about you," Hermione practically whined. Ron smiled when she pouted and leaned down to kiss her lips. "You were very mean to mean back then." Hermione pulled her head away, scowling. Ron hiccupped and leaned closer.

"Hermione, I was the nicest guy you knew! I mean, I might have been the only bloke in school who didn't make fun of your teeth, or your hair, or how you were always in the library, or how you loved studying and homework." Ron rambled on, and with each passing phrase, Hermione grew more and more angry with her ex.

"Ronald, I think you felt the same way!" she huffed, scooting away from him entirely.

"Not true! I loved you! You were always there to do my homework for me, and help me in Potions, and Transfiguration, and Charms, and Ancient Runes, and well Neville helped me in Herbology, but you did everything else!" Ron grinned, acting like his words would bring her running back into his arms.

Hermione's frown deepened. "Ron, was that all I was good for in school? Doing your homework for you and making sure you didn't fail?" She could feel tears welling up behind her lids, and Hermione didn't know how to stop them. Letting out a sniffle, Hermione stood and went to her bedroom.

"C'mon Hermione, that wasn't it at all! Just let me come in, and I can tell you how it really was. Then we can just have a nice little sleep and wake up in the morning, and you can make a nice little breakfast." Ron grinned at the closed door. "You know you want to have some breakfast with me," he sang, swaying back and forth while he waited for the door to open.

A few seconds passed, and then the door did open a crack, and Hermione poked her head out. She glanced around, as if checking to see if someone was watching, before she grabbed Ron's collar and pulled him into the bedroom. It was dark, and Ron tripped over a few things, swearing as he went, before making it to the bed.

"See, I knew you would come around," he drawled, unbuttoning his shirt. Hermione hiccupped and nodded.

"You make lots of sense. I do in fact like breakfast," she slurred, pulling her night shirt over her head. "And we haven't eaten breakfast together in a long time."

"You are so right," Ron sighed, climbing into bed beside Hermione. She nodded again, her head getting heavy, as she leaned it against his shoulder. "You're always right, Hermione."

"I know," she mumbled, drifting off.

Hermione groaned, rubbing her eyes to try and relieve the pressure in her skull. A shift on the other side of the bed reminded her that she hadn't slept alone that night. Cracking open one eye, she saw the blurry outline of Ron lying face down in the pillow next to her. Wanting to cry as she stood, Hermione slowly made her way to the bathroom.

"Jesus." Her voice was gravelly and soft, as if unused for a long period of time. Head pounding, Hermione attempted to brush her teeth, the constant movement fatiguing her arm. Halfway through, she gave up and threw the toothbrush in the sink before turning on the water and splashing her face.

"Hermione, where's the coffee?" Ron grumbled from the doorway, rubbing his eyes.

"I haven't made any yet," she whispered, not liking the loud voice in her head. Ron frowned and took an unsteady step back towards the bed.

"Well start one so I can get up." With that, he fell onto the mattress and immediately back to sleep.

Hermione stumbled into the bright kitchen, shielding her eyes from the light. Wearily getting the coffee maker going, she looked around her apartment. Hers and Ron's jackets were thrown haphazardly on the floor by the front door. There was an open flask spilled on the rug beside the couch beside their shoes.

As hard as she tried to, Hermione could not for the life of her remember what had happened after they left the restaurant. She vaguely recalled walking home, but she didn't know that Ron had been with her. She was too weary to wonder why he stayed the night instead of walking to his place.

"Is breakfast ready yet?" Ron snapped, walking into the kitchen. Hermione winced as the volume of his voice rang in her ears and foggy head.

"Almost," she groaned. "Sit down before you hurt yourself." He was still very unsteady on his feet, practically using the refrigerator to prop himself up.

"Just shut up and make the food, woman." Hermione let the sharp words go, too hung-over to fight with him. Putting the coffee mug in front of him, prepared just the way she remembered he liked, Hermione got out a box of cereal and two bowls, unable to make anything more complicated.

"Here." She handed him the box and sat down, leaning her head against the cool tabletop. It felt nice against the pounding behind her eyes. She could hear Ron shoveling the food into his mouth, most likely chewing with his mouth wide open, as usual.

"Do you remember last night at all?" she asked, raising her head a few inches to look at him. He grunted between spoonfulls. She was just going to pretend that was a 'maybe a few minutes.'

"When do we have to meet Harry and Ginny for lunch?" Hermione wanted to shake her head, astounded that he was thinking about the next meal already. She didn't know the answer to his question however, unaware that they were even invited to lunch by the couple.

"I'll see you at Harry's," he said as soon as he had finished the bowl. Rising from his seat, Ron walked around the table and gave the top of her head a kiss. Hermione didn't bother looking up at him, but listened as he picked up his shoes and jacket before walking out the door.

"Hermione, please tell me what happened last night," Ginny complained the moment she set foot in the front room. She had showered and brought a loaf of French bread from a bakery nearby. The subtle scent wafting from the bread and her newly cleaned body helped ease the pounding in her head.

"You don't remember either?" Hermione groaned internally, having hoped that Ginny could fill in some of the blanks from last night before they had parted.

"I know what happened before we left, and certainly what happened when Harry and I got back here." Ginny paused to blush, clearly recalling the drunken sex she and her boyfriend had most likely had. "But what happened to _you_?"

"I honestly have no idea. I barely remember leaving the restaurant, and then I wake up this morning beside Ron." Ginny looked a little nervous.

"Mione, Ron said that you two… _you know_." She let it hang, leaving Hermione to wonder where exactly her mind had been while she and Ronald had apparently hooked up.

"I can't… I don't remember anything at all from last night. If Ron and I slept together, it's news to me."

Ron and Harry walked in at that moment, ending the girls' line of conversation abruptly. Ron looked at her, smiled gently, and helped her remove her jacket after taking the bread from her arms. Harry put and arm around Ginny, leading her into the dining room. Hermione caught the inquisitive look that Ginny shot her and Ron.

As they settled down for the meal, Hermione noticed that Ronald had yet to say a word in front of her. Perhaps he was embarrassed that he remembered last night, and she did not? Or maybe, he was unsure of how to approach the subject with her. If she were in his shoes, she would probably ignore the topic altogether, unwilling to talk about something like that with someone who didn't even remember it.

Although, Hermione wondered exactly how drunk she had been to have sex with Ron again. Not that Ron was bad, but she had not wanted to lead him to think that they had a chance of being together again. Her body, clearly, had a different path for her. Ron seemed to be exactly what it wanted, proving her point when her stomach fluttered as Ron smiled at her from across the table.

Lunch was finished without incident or mention of the night after the group split. Harry, it turned out, thought that he had only had a few drinks last night. Ginny had to inform him between giggles that he had tossed back fingers of whiskey like it was his job.

"Speaking of your job, how much work do you have this week? I was thinking that we should visit Mum at some point." Ginny delicately took a sip of her ice water, waiting for Harry to respond. Harry tried to keep a straight face, but Hermione caught the slight wince he made.

Since Fred's death, Harry had taken it upon himself to treat the Weasley's every so often, bringing them gifts and the like. But lately, he had been unable to get away from work long enough to do anything special. He felt guilty, both about the unintended neglect, and the death of their son. Hermione noticed that he was much like her in that respect; even when indirectly involved, they both felt the weight of the consequences.

"Sure, I'll see what the load looks like tomorrow." Ginny nodded and stood to clear the table.

"Gin, I'll help," Hermione offered. Harry waved her off, saying that she was a guest. Frowning, Hermione sat back down and played with the napkin in her lap. The edges were beginning to curl in from wear, as old as they were. They had been a set from Molly Weasley, a housewarming gift when the couple had first bought the flat after the war.

"So, how are you feeling?" Ron asked, breaking the silence that had settled over them. Hermione cocked her head, not sure what he was asking.

"You looked like your head hurt this morning when I left," he continued, clarifying. She nodded, wincing as she thought about the pain she had been in that morning.

"It's mostly gone now, thankfully. I just have a bit of a lingering headache." She smiled. "How about you? You seemed quite put out when you realized that you had to get out of bed at some point."

Ron grinned. "Yeah well, you have a comfortable bed, and I just wasn't ready to move after last night." Hermione couldn't tell if he was talking about the hangover or the sex.

"About last night…" Hermione didn't know how to ask the question. "Did we… do anything?"

"We drank some more," he said slowly. A blush crept across his freckled face. "You don't remember afterward at all?"

"No, nothing comes to mind." He picked at the tablecloth, not meeting her eyes.

"We kissed for a while, then you tried to take my pants off." She almost let her jaw fall. She had done that? Merlin, she was a ballsy drunk.

"Then what?" she asked, cringing at what else she could have done.

"We, well, you _know_, made love." He scratched the back of his head and smiled sheepishly. "I really missed you, Hermione."

Well shit, this was exactly what she had hoped wouldn't happen. Because of their tryst, Ron thought they were back on. After two years, one would think the man had realized that 'no' actually meant 'no.' She could understand however how their wires had gotten crossed along the way, both with their drunken escapades and the amount of flirting Hermione had allowed over the years.

"Ron, I don't think—." She stopped when Ginny and Harry came back in to sit down. This was not a conversation to have in front of their best friend and his sister. They would have to continue it later.

As soon as Hermione walked out of the fireplace, she tossed her jacket over the back of the couch and flopped onto the cushions. Throughout the entire lunch with Harry and Ginny, Ron had been trying to play footsies with her under the table. She thought Ginny could tell something was going on, but she couldn't be sure. As soon as it was appropriate to leave, she had bolted into the Floo system. There was no way she could handle Ron thinking they were back together. She barely got through lunch without snapping at him.

Running her hands through her hair, Hermione took a deep breath.

"I can do this," she said to herself. "I've been through worse situations than a silly misunderstanding." It may have been true, but at least she had known how to handle herself in those instances. She was totally unsure of how to go about breaking Ron's heart a second time.

She thought about Malfoy, and what he would do. She snorted at the thought.

"He would probably just tell her he didn't like the sex and was over her," she grumbled. "He's so unhelpful."

"Who's unhelpful, Granger?" Hermione jumped a mile, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. Turning around in her seat, she finally noticed the man in question leaning against her front door, arms crossed.

"You seem to talk to yourself quite a bit," he pointed out, pushing off the wall to walk toward her. "I've begun to think you're not right in the head."

"You wouldn't be the first," Hermione said, eyeing him suspiciously. "How did you get in here? I have wards set up everywhere." Malfoy shrugged.

"Apparently you still can't beat me at some things, even after all these years," he drawled, smirking at her. He knew the jab to her intelligence would get her going.

"Fuck off," she snapped, waving her hand at him. "I beat you in Charms, remember?"

"Regardless, I'm here," he said, holding his arms out, that smirk still perfectly in place. "Back to my original thought, you talk to yourself more than people should. It's unhealthy, Granger."

"I was not talking to myself," she replied lamely. She had been, but there was no way she was going to tell Draco Malfoy why that was.

"Is dear little Hermione Granger struggling to figure out her life in the world?" he mocked, seeming to be in a dark mood all of a sudden. She didn't particularly like the glint in his silver eyes. It reminded her too much of the old days, back in school when he would torment her relentlessly.

"I just have a little problem that needs to be dealt with," she hedged. He sneered and walked around the couch to stand over her.

"Well you're Hermione Granger, I'm sure you can figure it out all on your own." She glared at him.

"I wasn't asking for your help, _Malfoy_," she spat, not liking his tone.

"I wasn't offering it, _Granger_. In fact, I think I'll be leaving now." He turned quickly on his heel and then thought of something. Looking back at Hermione, he walked toward her and leaned over her so fast that she fell back into the couch. "Be careful who you keep close Granger, they may not turn out to be who you want them to be." He swept out of the room, closing her front door loudly behind him.

"Insufferable jackass," she seethed. He had no right telling her what to do. He had no right coming here unannounced simply to yell at her. Still riled up from her most recent fight with the blonde man, she decided it would be in her best interest to take another shower.

Slipping his hand out of his pocket, Draco examined the flask he had taken from Hermione's apartment. It was silver with an intricate design etched around the large _RW_ engraved on the front. The flask reeked of whiskey. _That bumbling fool was drunk at Hermione's place._ He just could not seem to wrap his mind around the very obvious fact that Hermione and Ron had been drinking not-so-casually together.

Draco hadn't missed the fact that her kitchen was a mess and there was more than one set of dirty dishes stacked beside the sink for washing. The oaf had most likely stayed the night. And, Draco being Draco, assumed that they had reunited as the lovers they once were.

He turned into the first convenience store he came upon and went straight for the checkout counter. "I need a smoke." The cashier looked at him.

"Which brand?" He had never bought cigarettes before. In fact, he had never even smoked one. He had no idea which ones were good and which would make him throw up on the sidewalk.

"Uhh, the red one." The cashier took the pack from the shelf and rang it up for him. For such a small box, they sure were expensive…

Pansy, coincidentally, found Draco outside just as he was taking his first drag from the small, white stick. She raised a brow and snatched the rest of the pack from his hand.

"What are these?" She held the rectangular box by two fingers, as if they offended her delicate nature.

"Cigarettes Pans, what do they look like," he rasped, trying not to cough. _Gods these are horrid. How do Muggles smoke these every day?_ She frowned.

"And why are you suddenly a smoker? I'm sure your mother will disapprove of your new habit." She held the pack out to him before wiping her hands on her pants. Draco then noticed what she was wearing.

"Pansy, since when do you wear sweatpants?" He assessed her. Tight black sweatpants, a pink fluorescent hooded sweatshirt, and black running shoes.

"I've decided to start running." She said it as if it were natural for her to just go the gym. He raised a brow at her. She rolled her eyes in return. "Alan says I'm looking a little thin lately, and he thinks that if I start exercising regularly, I can be healthier."

"Pansy, you are one of the healthiest people I know. You diet constantly, you always look fantastic, and I don't know _what_ Alan is talking about." He was lying through his teeth. Pansy had been getting thinner, but he hadn't wanted to be the one to stir up that storm with her.

"Thank you Draco, that's very nice of you to say." She smiled up at him, but caught a glimpse of the cigarette still between his fingers. The smile turned into a frown and she snatched it out of his hand. "Stop smoking these, they are disgusting and ruin your lungs. Your fingers and teeth are going to turn yellow, your hair will fall out, you'll get wrinkles, and you'll die."

"Damnit Pansy, that was unnecessary." He took the cigarette back and took one last drag before dropping it on the pavement and grinding it under his shoe. He put his hand to his head, as if to make sure his hair wasn't falling out as they spoke.

"See, you are much too superficial to be able to handle the effects of smoking those horrid things." She smiled like she had won something before taking his arm in hers and walking them down the street. "So, where are you headed looking so handsome, might I ask?"

"Home," he ground out, remembering why he had been out in the first place. Pansy looked up at him but kept walking.

"What's got your panties all in a bunch?" she asked, smirking. It was a little joke of theirs back in school.

"You, baby," he answered with a grin, just as she had all those times. "God Pans, remember when life was that easy? We shag, go to class, shag some more, go to Quidditch practice, go to bed, and do it all again the next day. There was nothing to break the routine, nothing we needed to do."

"No obligations we had to fulfill expect to keep to our own kind and wait for orders from a man who might never come," she added quietly. They walked in silence for a few minutes, thinking back on the short time when the most drama in their lives was keeping Astoria Greengrass from sneaking into his room on nights when Pansy wasn't occupying his bed.

"I wish we could go back to that," he murmured. She slid her hand down his arm to clasp his fingers with hers. Leaning her head against his shoulder as they continued on down the darkening street, Pansy heaved a great sigh.

"Do you? Would you really want to relive that part of our lives all over again? The unknown of what was to come, what we were to do when the Dark Lord returned to power." Draco heard the twinge of fear in her voice and gripped her hand a little tighter. "That was the worst part, I think. Not knowing if the next letter I got was the one that would kill me. If the next time I left Hogwarts would be my last."

"If the next time you went home you weren't leaving alive." They both knew the horror of Lord Voldemort occupying their homes. He had begun in Draco's manor, but during the recruiting of most of his army, the Dark Lord had used Pansy's childhood home as his base. They had watched their homes and their families waste away while Voldemort reigned over them. And neither had ever fully recovered.

"Enough of that," Pansy said, trying to sound chipper. Draco could hear the fear and anguish underneath the lightness of her tone. He had always been the one to see through her façade.

"Where can I bring you?" He didn't really want to leave her, not when they had been rehashing old memories.

"Get dinner with me?" Draco smiled.

"Of course darling, anything for you." She smiled and rose up on her toes to give him a peck on the cheek. He knew she thought he was just being sweet, but he meant it. He would do anything for Pansy.

The four of them, Blaise, Pansy, Theo, and him. They would do anything for each other, and they all knew it, deep down. But Pansy, she was the one he held a soft spot for. During their relationship back at school, sure he had been protective, but it wasn't until after, when he realized that he might lose her for good in that stupid war, that he knew he loved her. He loved Pansy like the sister he never had, and he would stop at nothing to keep her safe from any harm that might come her way.


End file.
